


The Other Side - Slick's Squad - Slick's Story

by Reulte



Series: Slick's Squad [5]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 35,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2616341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reulte/pseuds/Reulte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sergeant Slick had his reasons for treason...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When a Squad Dies

Slick picked up the glass again and made sure it was empty then pushed the empty away. He didn't have many credits; clones didn't get paid.  He couldn't afford a second drink but they'd let him sit there until someone paying wanted his table. He glanced around at the makeshift bar.

It was made from a tarp slung over a rubble wall of some bombed out building on one side and held by scavenged metal poles on the other. Light was provided by whatever was available; a large shard of mirror catching the dying sun, some candles, and a military issue lamp.

 _Black market,_ Slick thought absently. He should report it but he didn’t feel like it.

The Jedi used the clones, but didn't care for them.  Sometimes Slick wished he didn’t know as much about the process of his creation as he actually did.  The Jedi had bought the clones; purchased with the same nonchalance that they moved stuff around with the Force; whether or not the something wanted to be moved.  They'd given the Kaminoans specifications, approve Jango Fett as the template, modified them to their needs without taking into account that these clones would grow to be independent men.  

If given the time.

His squad wouldn’t have the time.  He'd lost them today.

 _All of them_.

Teknik. Five clones strong and brave and true.

Ven. Five troopers under his leadership.

Knife. Five men who had depended on him.

Roan. Five brothers who wouldn't return to barracks.

Eighteen.  Slick's squad of brothers.

The worst part was he didn't even have a scratch or a scar to remember them by. Nothing on his body where he could point and say, 'I got this scar when my squad died; I bled when my brothers died.’

Sure, the general had covered them with his light saber but in its own way, that was a weakness. You couldn't depend on it; you couldn't depend on the Jedi to maintain cover as he moved forward in some random pattern ignoring his own plans.

They'd been behind the General. The general just loping through the zone, Jedi-quick, as though he knew he was immortal. Slick and his brothers were behind the general, trying to keep up in spite of being neither Jedi-quick nor immortal.

Softly, he repeated it again. _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Teknik. Ven. Knife. Roan. Eighteen._

He'd been saying that, repeating their names, like a litany since he'd come off the battlefield. Teknik, Ven, Knife, Roan, Eighteen. He could feel all the anger and hate and pain whirl inside him, something building inside him.

A woman came by, young, dark-haired, and pretty enough to make some dark hunger twist inside his gut. She paused and smiled at him, her eyebrows raised in a friendly question. He waved her by with his fingers and a downward glance. If he didn't have credits for a second cheap alcohol then she was well out of his price range.

She moved on but not before giving a soft sigh at his good looks.

 _Give her time_ , he thought, _she'd find plenty more like me._ His fingers gripped the glass. _Just like me_.

Looking down at the table, he made his fingers let go of the glass. He didn't have the credits to pay for it if he broke it.

At the moment, he was the only clone in there. As far as he knew, he was the only clone aware of this makeshift bar.  He was in armor, theoretically on duty, but they didn't care. They took his few credits. In trade, he drank their brew, as bitter as his emotions.

Slick raised his eyes and watched the woman go with regret. He would have liked to go with her, put his arm around her waist, and let her head rest on his shoulder. He would have enjoyed talking to someone not a trooper, someone not a Jedi. He would have liked to go with her, enjoy her company – in some bed of her choosing or even just sitting here at the table, basking in the warmth of her smile. He gazed at the young woman as she spoke to another patron then they both walked away with his arm around her waist. 

Slick couldn't get married even if he did find a woman who'd want to stay with him, barely distinguishable from his brothers. Marriage was for citizens.

He earned no credits, he'd been bought and paid for, modified to fit some perceived need; his entire life conscripted to fighting for the Jedi.

He'd received his few credits – enough for a solitary homebrewed ale – for lifting some boxes. He'd seen an old man trying to move his belongings from one burnt-out building to another only slightly more stable. Slick had suggested the refugee center but the old man was stubbornly against giving up his independence.  It had taken Slick, with his strength, only moments to move the boxes to the doorway. He had meant it as a simple kindness. The old man had pressed the few credits into his hands.

"I'll not owe anything," he'd said, not accepting the gift Slick had meant.

Slick understood. Gifts could only flow between equals. Not between citizen and clone. Not between master and slave. The old food hadn’t even realized he owe the GAR for the entire planet, for his life.  There was no such thing as independence.

Slick had no say, had never had the chance to voice his thoughts to anyone but his squad.  Teknik, Ven, Knife, Roan, Eighteen.  Bright and brilliant, strong and fierce, they had often debated the Rights of Sentience or their contract or what they knew about Jedi.

“They can’t all be this bad in group maneuvers and tactics,” Roan had laughed as they had armored up and grabbed their weapons for the planned assault.

Slick shook his head.  Had that only been yesterday?

Slick still had no say. Troopers weren't citizens. He couldn't work without citizenship except as a trooper. . He couldn't serve on a trial board nor be judged by citizens – he'd go before a military board composed of Kaminoans, Jedi and a few of his brothers so thoroughly brainwashed they wouldn’t think about going against anything the Jedi said; no one who had any more concern than the tinnies about shedding clone blood.

Slick looked at the military lamp again. Some refugee had stolen it and sold it for a few credits – a clone wouldn’t do that. Clones had no right to own anything, not even their own labor, and they never thought about stealing because stealing implied ownership.  There was none of that in the GAR except by the Jedi.  He was bought and paid for; he didn't even have the right to his own life – that belonged to the Kaminoans and to the Jedi. Perhaps that's why the Jedi were so callous. Clones weren't men, but merchandise in human form.

The Rights of Sentience didn't apply to them.

He'd lost his brothers today - Teknik, Ven, Knife, Roan, Eighteen - and Slick’s heart ached.

It was getting dark and he'd have to report to Senator Organa. He heaved a sigh as he rose from the table and looked at his BARC speeder. They'd be getting reinforcements soon. He'd have a new squad, probably coming in tomorrow or the day after. It was barely enough time to mourn his first squad, the brothers who had come out of Kamino with him.

But mourning was for people – not cloned merchandise.

The girl came back, alone, a bit mussed, and looked at him shyly. She made a small gesture with her hand, _come here_ , and ducked behind the corner of the building half of the bar.

Slick followed her, cursing under his breath.  It was probably a trap, a few citizens too proud or stubborn or di’kut to be refugees waiting to steal his non-existent credits or the med pack from his belt. He didn't care. He'd be glad to meet them and glad to take his anger out on living flesh. He picked his helmet off the table and went, his thumb stroking the inner rim.

She was there alone and she smiled as he came near her and Slick paused in caution.  There were no others around and he drew nearer, close enough to smell her perfume.  Her arms went around his shoulders, around his armor and her fingers slid behind his head. She leaned against him, her face turned up, watching his eyes, smiling at his confusion.

"I haven't got..." he began with a shake of his head.

"Sssh. This is a gift." Her lips softly touched his, though he was too surprised to kiss her back. To hold his balance as she leaned against him, Slick put one arm around her waist and his instincts brought her closer to him. She rained kisses on his face. When her lips touched his a second time, he reacted. He began kissing her back, hesitantly at first, then with eagerness. With all the want and sadness in his soul

Slick was dizzy and trembling when she put her hands on his face and slowed, then stopped.

"I have to go, now," was all she said breathlessly. The pulse in the side of her neck quivered rapidly.

It took several minutes of leaning against the building to regain his equilibrium.


	2. Two

The dark-haired woman who had kissed him was there the next evening when Slick came up on the speeder.  He didn't get off the speeder. He had no more credits for a drink and had only come to see if she was there.  He just wanted to catch a glimpse of her.  Maybe he’d catch her eyes and maybe she’d smile at him.

Just maybe...

She came up to him, as if she’d been waiting for him to arrive, put her hands on his armored chest then sliding them up until he took off his helmet and her fingers touched the skin of his lips. There was only a moment for a quick kiss that put his pulse into overdrive before she went back to the bar but she had whispered a message for his ears alone.

Tonight at the 3rd hour. Here.

Even after a second double-check of the perimeter for droids and seppies, he was nervously early.  She was there, waiting in the darkness with a blue shawl around her shoulders, and Slick's breath caught in his throat.

Neither said anything as she climbed on the speeder behind him, her arms around his waist, her head against his back, and the thick shawl twisted around her shoulders. He took her to one of Crystal City's taller buildings, secured his speeder and led her up to a room with windows all around.

It’s a beautiful place.  He had thought that when he had first found the room, a crystal floor surrounded on all sides by seamless, domed glass - like a transparent bubble.  He had shared it with his brothers and they had declared it wonderful and made it theirs.  Sometimes they had lain on the floor looking at the night stars overhead as their minds wandered and they discussed their lives; bright and fleeting, like the meteor showers they watched.

Now he'd brought her here to share it. The crystal buildings around them gleamed in the moonlight which seemed almost low enough to touch. Above them, brighter than the stars, but not as bright as the moon, were the asteroid belts of the Hammers and The Barren.

She stood, staring straight up, awed by the view as he set some food and drink he’d taken from the mess on a broken table. There were no chairs so she spread the shawl down for them to sit on. To lie on, he realized and, again, his breath caught at the thought. He removed his helmet then, with trembling fingers that caught clumsily on the locks, the rest of his armor.

As they dined on trooper rations and water, she talked about Christophsis and being a student at the university.  She had studied crystal structures and energy matrices. Slick listened, mostly, as he admired the graceful movement of her hands.

As they sat on her shawl, she pressed herself against him and he put his arms around her to hold her warm.   Her skin was smooth and there was the scent of flowers in her hair.  This time Slick initiated the kisses.

“I’m not very experienced,” he murmured into her ear when he thought it was time.  “Absolutely none, if fact.”

She smiled at that, a sparkle coming to her eyes and a mischievous smile to her lips.  "Christoph men don't admit to being virgins.  They think it unmanly to have no experience."

Slick had merely shrugged and kissed her.  In the short time he had known her, he  had become very good at kissing. "Everyone starts with no experience. There is no shame in it."

"And a great deal of pleasure," she whispered as she looked into his eyes, her fingers on his chest pressing him downwards.  

“Teach me,” he said laying back on the shawl, his arms coming up to surround her.  “And I will become very good,” he promised with a grin.

Slick fell in love.


	3. A Crystal Heart

"Are you a spy, Maruli?" Slick asked her one night in post-coital bliss as he stared upward into the mass of stars.

"Nothing more than an opportunist," she murmured sleepily.

"Do you opportunistically spy against me?" It was mostly curiosity on his part. He made sure he couldn't be traced, nor did he tell her much about his duties.

"No."

Her answer was immediate and adamant. He caught no prevarication, no hesitation or quiver indicative of a lie. She continued speaking.

"You're my love and no one has any business knowing anything about you. And, you don't tell me anything." She moved closer under his arm, her dark hair curling into her face. "I like that, you know. That you don't give me any information. Maybe it's because you don't trust me, but I prefer to think it's for my own protection and I like that."

Slick fingered back the strands of hair then leaned slightly to kiss her softly on the cheek as she faded into sleep.

Usually, he slept as well, if only for a short time in her embrace, after making love to Maruli but tonight he only wanted to watch her. She slept so deeply, so peacefully calm that it soothed Slick simply to watch.

"At night, Maruli, when you close your eyes," he whispered several hours later as dawn began spreading light through their crystal chamber, "what are you seeing?"

"Life and happiness," she told him in a low murmur. "I see us together, an old married couple with grandchildren running through the stone gardens."

He paused and bowed his head. "That sounds like a nice dream." He ran his fingers over her back as she lay atop him. "It won't come true, you know. I'm not a citizen. I'll never be anything but a clonetrooper from Kamino."

"I understand that you're a trooper, but someday, when your contract is over, you'll come back to Christophsis." She opened her eyes and raised up, a concerned look on her face. "Won't you? To be with me?"

Slick gave a bitter laugh. "There is no contract, Mar. At least not one that I had any say in."

"You won't come back?" Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke. "Is it because of what I do? With other men?"

"No. That's what you do to stay alive though I wish you'd move to the refugee center."

She shook her head as she sat up, sliding beside him, her palm on his chest. He curled his arm around her leg, lightly stroking the skin of her inner thigh. She smiled wryly. "They'd blame me for what their husbands do and for staying alive." Her smile became tender as she gazed into his eyes. "It's ok. I guess I didn't expect you to stay. Not really."

"Mar," Slick slid his arms around her, pulling her against him. "If I had any say in my future, it would be with you but I have no voice in anything."

"Why not? What have you done?"

"Nothing, Maruli; I've done nothing. What I am is a Kamino clonetrooper; cloned as part of a contract to the Jedi. I am not a citizen, I am not even a person. I am classified as a commodity. A product. Something that exists only to fill a need."

She only blinked as her mind processed that information then she shook her head. "That's slavery and slavery is prohibited in the Republic. The Rights of Sentience guarantee…"

Her voice faded as he sadly shook his head. "The Jedi commissioned an army and I am merely a unit in that army. A "genetically-enhanced, flash-trained, biological unit" as the contract stipulates. Not a person. They were very careful about that, I'm sure."

"You are a person, Slick. An individual." Her voice was insistent.

He glanced down at her blue shawl separating them from the crystal floor. This was what he dreaded, that she would see him only as a clonetrooper, no different than his brothers. "No, Mar. I'm just one of several million units. Identical to every clonetrooper decanted from the cloning chambers; trained the same, with no more differentiation permitted than four base pairs in our genetic complement."

She paused at that bit of information then touched him on one of the small scars on his arm, remnant of shrapnel that had gotten through the small crevice of his armor. "Does every one of you have this scar?"

Slick shook his head. "No, they have their own scars."

"So you aren't identical then."

"We all have different experiences, but our genetics and our upbringing is identical."

"Before the war, Slick, I had a genetically-identical twin sister and there was no one more different from me than her. Do you have any problems telling your men apart from each other?"

Slick shook his head. "No, but civilians usually can't tell the difference even with our armor markings."

"Then learn to use that similarity, Slick. My sister and I did." She laughed in memory, shaking her head. "The tricks we pulled on everyone…" Her eyes softened, "Never could fool mom, though. Even my father and brother couldn't tell the difference between us but mom always knew."

"I'd be able to tell, Maruli." Slick smiled shyly.

"I have no doubt of that, my wonderful man," she laughed and leaned into him for a kiss which he very thoughtfully provided.

"If I could marry you, Maruli, I would," he said after a bit of silence and being as close as two humans could be. "I would grant you anything I could."

"Your freedom, Slick." Her hand came up to caress his cheek. "That's all I want." She paused. "Tomorrow, I'll take you to my home. It's not nearly as grand," she gestured with a smile around their crystal dome. "But it's mine and I'll share it with you like you've shared this with me."

He froze for a moment. "Sharing; that's what married people do, isn't it. They share everything?"

She nodded.

"If my vow meant anything, I would give it to you. If I had a life to call mine, I would swear it to you."

She curled against him and wept for him.


	4. Flesh-droid

Slick had run his rounds.  Some of the Christophsians he saw on a regular basis reported droids in the area and that was bad news.  He wasn’t sure whether to report to the command center first or to make sure Maruli was safely away from their meeting place.  As it was, he compromised.

“Command, this is Rover 1.  There are reports of heightening droid activity in sector three.”

“Return to base, Rover 1.”

Slick shook his head though no one could see that.  “Negative, command.  I’m going to check on one more contact first.  My best one.  I’ll get specifics.”

“Rover 1, denied.  That is…”

Slick clenched his jaw on an abrupt refusal but there was no way he would leave Maruli near their crystal tower.  That was too near where the reported activity was occurring.  He heard voices in the background at the command center; a clear non-clone and not the general’s voice saying, ‘let him be the judge of that’.

“Rover 1, amend orders.  Proceed towards contact, return to base immediately after.”

“Affirmative.”  Slick leaned forward on his speeder, opening the throttle.

She was waiting for him by the tower, her heat signature evident in his helmet in the dusk.  He manually overrode the standard and flicked to a combination of night vision and polarizing lens.  Her life-flame narrowed, but the squad of droids were glowing in the sunset light.

They hadn’t seen her yet but were drawing closer with each moment.  There was no way to get to her without being noticed.

So, he’d make sure to be noticed.  He slipped one hand down for a droid popper, clenching it in his two smallest fingers, and then pulled out his deece.  Fek, there was an even chance he’d drop one or the other.  At this speed, he hoped if he did drop anything, it would be the blaster.  Though the BARC might be out of range before the popper hit.

Maruli saw him coming and, at the speed he was going, knew it wasn’t going to be the normal greeting.  She ran out to a more open area then stood still.

Ah, was there ever a woman with more trust than her? 

The droids had turned the corner and seen them by now; both him on the BARC and her in the broad plaza.  They were firing their blasters at him, ignoring her.  Leaning low over the BARC, firing his own weapon stabilized by the guide bar, Slick breathed slightly easier.

This might work.

One of their blasts hit the vane of the speeder but Slick hit one brake, sending the BARC slowly into a spin that had him nearly parallel to the ground as he and the BARC barreled into the squad.

The few droids remaining were tangled but rapidly untangling themselves as Slick pushed the speeder upright and gunned it forward.  Right before grabbing Maruli, he tossed the droid popper behind him.  He cussed as his deece went with it, but reached out his arm and pulled Maruli in front of him on the speeder then opened the throttle to full speed.

The BARC was smoking and Slick was nursing it to keep it moving by the time they were reasonably safe.  Slick pulled the smoking BARC against a building.  “Are you alright, Maruli?”  Slick jerked off his helmet.  “Mar, are you ok?”

She was panting heavily and shaking.  Symptoms of shock, Slick decided and pulled the medical kit off his belt.  She covered his gauntlet with her hand and he looked into her face.  Her skin was red and there were tears in her eyes but she was smiling - abet slightly shaky.

“That was…” she blew out some air and her trembling fingers.  She slid off the speeder and tried to stand but her knees gave way and she would have collapsed if Slick hadn’t caught her.  “...some ride.”

“There were reports of more droids in the area, Maruli.”  He put the kit up as he leaned his face against her cheek.  “Are you alright, Mar?”  His voice was a whispered plea.  “Please let me know.  I was scared they’d find you.”

“I’m fine, Slick.  Just a bit of windburn and a thrilling, scary ride.”  She hugged him and, for a moment, they were still, reassuring themselves that they were both alright and alive.  She pulled away slightly and, knees still shaky pulled herself onto the seat of the speeder.  “I have some news you’ll be interested in also,” she was solemn.  “I was in a bar eastside last night.”

Eastside was separatist-held area and Slick worried when she went there.

“They’re bringing in more forces.  More droids and a loathsome general as well as a woman overall commander.  ‘She’ll take care of the Jedi,’ that’s what they said.”

Slick nodded, listening now as a trooper rather than as her lover.  “Did they give any names?”

Maruli nodded.  “No, but they going to blockade the planet.”  Her lower lip trembled.  “They said he’s going to starve out the Republic.”  Her eyes stared at Slick and her voice got softer until he could barely hear her.  “Starve out the flesh-droids.  I didn’t know what a ‘flesh-droid’ was, Slick.  I had to ask.”

“It’s a clone, Maruli.  A flesh-droid is a clone.  I am a flesh-droid.”

“No,” she hit him angrily on the shoulder bell.  “Don’t you ever - ever.”  She hit him again.  “Refer to yourself that way.  You are not a droid.  You are a human being and I love you and I don’t care what that stupid contract calls you.”

There were tears in her eyes and, after a short patch job on the speeder, Slick set her in front of him and slowly made the way to her small home.  He held her until dusk turned to midnight and then returned to base with the new information and more details.


	5. dĭ-sěnt'

 

“Move it,” Sergeant Barlex stuck his head into the barracks.  “That was good intel, Slick.  The general has decided on an immediate attack.”

Then Barlex was gone, shouting into some other barracks as Slick turned toward Ven muttering about sleep then remembered that Ven wasn’t there.  None of his vode were there anymore.

Slick made it to the staging area before the general.  Most of the troopers were also there, waiting and prepared, milling in small groups.  Glancing around, Slick saw he was the ranking trooper and strode down the lines to the shinies.  There were far too many shinies in the company and far too few command group; Lieutenant Grey and the oldtimers - him, Sergeant Barlex and Medic Ferritin.  There were a few good, experienced troopers and both he and Barlex had suggested they be made squad leaders, at least temporarily, but the general had not made a decision on that yet.   

“He’ll order you to follow him, but be cautious,” he began talking to one squad with an equally shiny sergeant.  “He won’t always shield you with his light saber or follow the plan.  Don’t run straight in behind him.  Use standard evasive tactics.”

They hadn’t given him a squad and Slick was beginning to wonder if they’d ever give him another squad.  He wondered if he was being punish.  As if losing his squad, Ven, Teknik and his other vode hadn’t been punishment enough.  He missed them.  Not just being there to cover him in battle, but joking in the mess and the snoring late at night in the barracks.  He even missed that.  He would have liked introducing them to Maruli.

Checking their armor, tapping their weapons with a nod, or making slight adjustments, Slick moved down the line to another new squad.  These troopers were without a sergeant, only one of their vode chosen as a squad leader.  Slick began repeating his words as he checked over their armor.  “Remember to be cautious.  Don’t count on the general to shield you as he orders you to follow and…”

“Sergeant, why are you telling the squads to disobey me.”

Slick turned and saluted the general.  “Not disobey, sir.  Merely to remember that you won’t follow your own plan and you won’t cover them unless it’s convenient.  They can’t count on you and will need to maintain running cover of their own.”  Slick paused.  “They’ll follow you, General.”  Slick gave a slight snort of resignation.  “They’ll follow you with their lives, sir.  I’m just trying to help enough troopers survive to finish the mission.”

“The tides of battle are unexpected, Sergeant, and there are often openings in the chaos that I can take advantage of.”

“Exactly, sir.  That’s the problem.  You take advantage of something we are unaware of, but give no warning to your troops that you’ll lope off to one direction unexpectedly and leave them trying to figure out what to do.  Some follow you and some follow the original plan, splitting a squad up into easy targets.  I’m trying to convince them to stay alive long enough to follow up and press forward on your opening.”

The general peered at him, his pupils tiny pinpricks.  “We shall have a discussion, you and I, when we return after battle, Sergeant.”

Slick had a small epiphany; maybe just talking with the Jedi general would help.  He could tell the general about their training and their expectations and how squads worked.  “I’d like that sir.  Perhaps I can explain…”

“You will explain nothing except your insubordination.”

“Yes, sir.”  He glanced back at the shinies who had seen the interaction, and knew they’d follow the general.  And they’d die.

There was the bitter taste of defeat in Slick’s mouth and they hadn’t even gone to battle yet.

\------------------------------

“Did I not say we would discuss your insubordination after the battle?”

“Yes, sir.  Here I am.”

“But where have you been for the past several hours that I have been waiting?”

“I was assisting Ferritin with the wounded, sir.  And tallying the dead.”

“Yet, did I not say we would meet ‘after battle’?”

“Yes sir.  But, surely you didn’t mean before tending the wounded.”  Slick tilted his head in puzzlement.

“Assuredly, I did.  I meant immediately after battle.”  

“Medical assessment is part of the battle, sir.”  Slick licked his lips.  In spite of his soft words, the general’s anger was almost palpable.  “It is specified in the GAR Order of Battle and Prece...”

“I am not interested in how you define battle, sergeant.  I wished to have the meeting immediately after and, once again, your insubordination shows.”  He watched as Slick narrowed his eyes in anger then dropped his chin in defeat.

“Of course, general.  It won’t happen again.”  

“No, it won’t.  You will be someone else’s problem, Sergeant.”

Slick caught back a hiss of pain and pressed his lips tightly together.  He was being transferred!  Oddly, his first thoughts weren’t of Maruli but of the squad he had helped earlier with his words who had followed his advice and mostly survived.  He was useful here on Christophsis, his knowledge and experience important.

“I am being recalled to duties on Coruscant.  They will send someone else.  Perhaps they can deal with you better than I.”

Slick nodded.  “Yes, sir.  I understand.  It will be difficult to learn, but I will take it as my lesson to let battle units die before I inconvenience a Jedi.”

“You need only obey orders, sergeant,” the general said and Slick realized he was trying to be kind.  “And let the Jedi and the commanders made the decisions you are not equiped to make.  You are dismissed, sergeant.”

Slick could only stare at the general in something between bewilderment and horror then absently saluted and departed the office.  

Did the Jedi truly believed the clonetroopers were nothing more than ‘flash-trained units’?  It shook him to the core.  Was he in actuality only a ‘biologically-derived’ flesh-droid?

He shook his head.  He was more than than just a ‘unit’; he was a man.  He loved and he laughed in joy; he cried in pain and sorrow.  He missed his brothers; not because they had simply been in the same squad and covered each other in battle, but because they had been unique individuals and they would never exist again.  Because he had loved them not for their similarities but for their differences.

Slick decided he’d call the clonetroopers ‘men’ from now on.  Let the Jedi hear that and reprimand him.  They were men and he’d call them that.

But it was already too late for many of Slick’s brothers.  They’d lost two full squads and all the squads were all down by at least one or two troopers.

Slick wanted to cry but after checking with Ferritin and assisting the wounded as much as he could, he settled on riding the BARC out to Maruli’s small home.

The destruction he saw along the way frightened him. **  
**


	6. Splinters

 

He'd found Maruli at her home.

Though it wasn’t really Maruli; just her body, twisted and broken, like so many bodies he’d seen.  Like the bodies of Ven and Knife on the battlefield.  Her life’s blood had soaked into the soil leaving it black, like the blood of Eighteen and Teknik.  When he removed his glove to touch her cheek, her skin had been cold to his fingertips, like Roan.   Death made her look different, distant.  There was no smile on lips, no joy in her eyes.  

Her body lay crumpled on the ground surrounded by coarse mud and translucent crystal shards. Her body, that only last night had been pressed against him in love, was barren and empty of the essential her.  

Slowly, disbelieving, Slick knelt beside her.  Her face, with it’s unfamiliar laxity, was untouched and he brushed back her dark hair then wiped a bit of dirt from her cheek with a gentle caress.

“Maruli,” he choked out her name softly then lifted her body into his arms, holding it close to his chest as he bent his face into her neck and wept.

He sat on the ground holding her for a while, talking to her corpse, asking her to take messages to his squad, telling her things he'd never realized until that moment.  “Ven and Teknik will take care of you.  Tell them I am so proud of them.  Make sure they know how much I love them, Mar.  There’ll never be another squad like them, nor a woman again like you.”

“Where’s the blue shawl, Maruli?  It will keep you warm.”  Slick shook his head.  “No, you’ll never be warm again, will you?”

Though he found her small cache of coins, her blue shawl was lost in the destruction of her home, so he used a blanket to wrap her in and took her corpse to the crystal-domed building.

It took him most of the afternoon, but after he’d set her in the uppermost room he and his brothers had claimed, after he set her under the crystal dome where they’d spent time loving, he took some explosives from the armory and set them at the base and strategic points up the side of the building.  He didn’t try to hide from the tinnies, but none came upon him as he worked while talking quietly to the ghosts of his brothers.

“Roan, help me remember.  You were always the best at setting dets.”  Roan must have been listening.  Slick’s fingers were sure and steady as he set up the explosions.

When he finished that task, he sat next to Maruli looking up at the sky through the crystal dome.  Several times, he considered setting the string of dets off then, while he watched the meteors above.  But, in the end, he stood and took one last look at the bundle he had carefully placed in the center of the room.

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.  Maruli.”  His voice was somber.  “And you, my brothers.  Teknik, Ven, Knife, Roan, Eighteen.  I am alive and while I remember, so are you.”

As the sun set, shining the last spears of light onto the world, and the moon began to rise, casting a soft glow on Christophsis, he detonated a rapid sequence of small explosions.  The floors went first, dropping everything into the lowest core of the building.  Then the external crystals separated along their fracture zones and cascaded downward and inward, to cover her.  The great crystal dome was last; shattering, as Slick’s heart shattered, splintering into uncountable slivers, when it landed on the pile of debris.

Slick mounted his BARC.  He didn’t look back.  His heart was cold in loneliness but Slick burned for vengeance against the Jedi.

He would take away their grand, glorious army of the Republic.  One clone unit at a time. **  
**


	7. A Chance Encounter

 

Slick was back at the bar. It was less makeshift now, almost a semi-permanent structure.  He didn't look for Maruli anymore.  If she came by, it was only as a ghost.  He raised his glass in a toast to his ghosts.

_Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Teknik, Ven, Knife, Roan, Eighteen._

In his mind’s eye, he saw them as they’d been the last time. 　

Teknik running his hands over Eighteen’s armor, making sure it was set for maximum coverage and maneuverability.  Teknik, always so quietly serious and making sure everything was proper.  Lately, he’d been hanging around Ferritin.  "Learning a bit more than the usual first aid," he’d said, "in case we need it."

Roan laughing as he checked their weapons and explosives.  It was what he was best at - both armaments and seeing the absurdity of life.  Knife was loosening his trimmed armor, giving himself more room and flexibility.  He was their fastest and, in training, he had liked to move into other squads and grouped enemies to break them up for his brothers.  Ven was talking lightly to Roan; coordinating movement.  Roan was Ven’s responsibility.  As Roan opened up enemy squads, Ven covered him. 　

 _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.  Maruli_.

He would love her forever; until he died.  It was a very short forever.  His final thoughts would be hers.

The general was gone but they still hadn't assigned him a new squad.  They’d been telling him almost daily his new squad would come in ‘tomorrow’. 　

His squad. 　

His. 　

As if they were interchangeable units.  As if his brothers could be replaced.  Slick was a clone and nothing was ‘his’ except his thoughts. 　

Slick didn't worry about what they told him anymore.  He used the solitude and freedom.  It gave him time to think and to plan.  He still had his rounds and his duties but these were quickly accomplished.  Even the freedom was part of his duties; to search the city, to look for traces of CIS forces, to find people and direct them to the refugee centers, to help them the best he could.  There were very few signs of the seppies, as if they’d all flown away in that last retreat.  There were enough tinnies remaining that indicated the seppies would return.

In the meantime, Slick planned how to take the clones away from the Jedi. 　

He could kill them, of course.  Oddly, it was not as distasteful an idea as he would have thought.  Knowing what he did now, Slick would have given anything to have died one of those nights in the crystal tower, lovingly curled in Maruli’s arms with his face tucked into her neck.  He would have given anything to have died with his vode in that first battle.  Killing other clones before they discovered the cruelty of life that he had discovered seemed almost a kindness.

But Slick didn’t like that idea, mostly because it left his brothers in the ignorance of what they’d been drilled in; aware only of what they’d been taught.  It took away from the Jedi, but gave nothing in return.

He was coming to realize that the pain brought with it knowledge and understanding.  That idea, he thought on long and hard; twisting it around in his mind to examine it from all angles.

If he could make the other clones as free-thinking as himself then they would no longer belong to the Jedi.  Not only would he be depriving the Jedi of their obedient slave army, he would be giving the clones something.  Not that they would appreciate it for a long time; not that they would ever like it.  They would become more than flesh-droids, more than the mere ‘clone units’ of a Jedi-commissioned army. 　

They would be free men and, as free men, they would demand more.  Ultimately, they would demand citizenship.

Slick sighed.  They’d die, of course.  There were only a few million of them faced against the might of the Republic and the CIS in some quixotic quest for self-actualization.  Still, that was no different that what they could expect now in war.  No different than what awaited them in the half-life span allotted to the by the Kaminoan geneticists. Nothing was lost except innocence and ignorance.

Slick weighed the question in his mind.  Was it better to die in painfully-gained knowledge or in blinding ignorance?  And, if he gained the freedom of even one clone, would that enlightened one clone help him free the remainder?  Could he create a wave of knowledge that would grow by leaps and bounds as his vode - yes, they would be his brothers in pain - worked with the idea of growing beyond the knowledge they’d been programmed with? 　

There was a sudden silence and tenseness in the bar that alerted Slick and his hand automatically reached for his deece.  His mind was quicker, weighing possibilities and outcomes, and Slick relaxed then brought his hands back to the table. 　

She quirked up one long eyebrow.

"I don’t feel like killing at the moment," he replied to her evident curiosity.  He gave a small nod to the light sabers, one in her hand, her fingertips touching the other.  "Or dying."  He glanced around the small area where he’d met a dark-haired woman who had loved him.  "Or even making a mess."

She didn't move and slowly, he lifted one hand and gestured a single fingertip to the Christophsan bartender.  "A drink for the lady," he said.

She didn’t move other than to relax her fingers.  The bartender came and sat two drinks on the table then scurried back to the relative safety behind the bar.

After a glance at Slick, his hands gently curling around the glass, her lips quirked and she reset the light saber in its sheath, sitting opposite him.  Her back was to the remainder of the bar as well as the opening but she was reputed to be a Force user.

It was a unique opportunity to learn.

  
\----------------------------- 

It had been a good conversation.  She lied, of course, even as he hadn’t been totally truthful either.  They both knew it but they had both gained some useful information from each other.

Slick bowed his head to the table, gently caressing the smooth edge of the now-empty glass.  "Have you ever lost someone you loved?  Are you even capable of love?"

There was silence and when he glanced into her face, he saw only the stony stiffness that he’d seen in his own reflection. 　

She was more like him than the Jedi.

Angrily, she stood.  He could see her contemplate killing him; her fingers curled slightly and her pupils shrank into angry pinpoints. 　

It soothed Slick to know they had that pain in common.

"I’ll be here tomorrow," he said.  Mentally, he calculated Maruli’s few remaining coins.  "But you’ll need to pay."

She snorted softly in disdain.  "Take up gambling.  You’d be very good at it."

He shrugged, even while considering his words.  "I have my own plans which require money."  He looked up into her eyes.  "Quite a bit of money."

Her narrow face tilted as she observed him.  "You would be willing to allow your brothers to die to achieve your plans?"

"They aren’t my brothers," Slick growled angrily, knowing his face was as stony as hers had been only moments ago.  "My brothers were individuals, unique. 　These clones, they’re nothing more than flesh-droids."


	8. The New Squad

Slick didn’t see her often after that one time but the bartender would slip him a drink and a message from her with the words, ‘from a lady, sir’.  Most of the time she simply asked if there was any information Slick could provide and he provided some piece of triviality.

She was right; he was good at gambling.  The Christophsans had no idea how much information they telegraphed when engaged in the card games.  Slick stuck with Sabacc; he knew the rules to that game and there was less chance and more skill required than some other games of gambling.  He was coming in from rover duties and a game with more credits in the BARC’s holdall than he’d ever handled before and only a tiny fraction of what Ventress had promised when Lieutenant Grey called him to the office via the helmet link.

Slick raised his eyebrows at what to do about the credits, then shrugged and left them with the BARC.  

“Slick,” the lieutenant gestured him towards the table as he walked into the office.  “We’ve gotten confirmation of that blockade you had intel on.  CIS forces are coming into the system en mass.”

Maruli’s information.  Starve out the flesh droids.  Slick’s fingers stroked the rim of his helmet like they had once stroked his lover’s cheek.  “It was a good source,” he replied, “reliable.”

Grey turned his face toward Slick.  “Could you get more…”

But Slick was already shaking his head.  “Was.  It dried up.  Permanently.”

Grey sighed then slid his data pad for Slick’s view.  “They’ve diverted some troops and they should get here before the blockade is complete.  They’ll arrive tomorrow.”  He gave a small twist of his lips.  “I know I’ve been telling you that for what seems like ages but this time they’ve added the trooper designations so maybe it’s for real.”

For an instant, his heart thrilled.  A squad, a group of brothers!  His squad!  Then he remembered what he was going to do to them - what he had to do to make them free men.  They’d hate him.  

Slick was alright with their hate so long as they achieved freedom.

“I’ve offered Barlex his choice,” Grey was saying, “and I’ll offer the same to you and Ferritin.  If there’s any squad or troopers you know or know of…”

Slick’s eyes were caught by one designation.  CT 41-9523.  He’d seen the trooper after Excarga, threatening both staff and wounded troopers.  It had taken his captain to come in and calmed him down.  Slick had been taking Knife to medical; he’d broken up a formation of the heavier battle droids but had taken damage to a leg and his ribs on one side.  Knife was coughing blood and Slick was sure it was a punctured lung.  They’d halted taking wounded while some wounded shabuir was yelling about brain damage and waving his blaster around medical.  Only later had he learned that trooper had lost his entire squad for a second time and Slick felt he should apologize for his harsh words spoken in anger on Knife’s behalf but the trooper was gone; transferred.  Now, however…  Slick rubbed his thumb against his lower lip then gestured to the data pad. 

“I’d like that trooper, Lieutenant.  CT 41-9523.  I don’t know him personally, but I saw him in action once.  He showed a lot of determination.” 

Lieutenant Grey turned the data pad around and flicked through some screens.  “The others are Kamino shinies, Slick, but their scores are good.”  He gave a soft laugh.  “It’s a squad of slicers, Slick.  Just like you.”

Slick also chuckled.  “Not anymore, I’ve been a BARC rover so long, I probably couldn’t slice a ration bar with a vibro-knife.”

That got a rare, genuine laugh from the lieutenant; his face lighting up for a few minutes.

**\------------------------------  
**

Slick could see the LAAT coming in for a soft landing and the pilot had opened the bay doors for quick egress.  There were a few troopers peering out the doors in anticipation.

“Behind the doors,” he hissed, mostly to himself.  “Pull back, troopers, get your heads…”

A sniper round took out the nearest trooper and he was slammed back into the LAAT by the force of the head shot.  Another sniper round took out a trooper as he was attempting to close the LAAT door.  He hung for a moment, suspended and caught by something - Slick hoped it was his brothers because the trooper’s arm was still moving, trying to grip the outer portion of the door - then he fell.

Ferritin was running to where the trooper would land but Slick knew he’d be dead after a drop like that and turned toward the snipers. 

Immediately after the snipers had been neutralized, Slick strode to where the body lay, no longer a haphazard pile of flesh and armor but respectfully arranged by Ferritin.  There were troopers around Ferritin and the body, their shock evident in their postures.  Ferritin stood and shook his head solemnly.

“There’s nothing to be done for him.”  Ferritin turned, hefting his pack back onto his shoulders and noticing Slick, he close-channeled.  “He was one of your new squad, Slick.  I’m sorry.”

Slick signed.  “I’ll come to medical later to fill the notice.  He would have been a good trooper, Ferritin.  Did you see him try to get the door?”

Ferritin nodded.  “It’s what killed him.”

Slick nodded.  “I thought so.”  Then Ferritin was gone, back up the track to the barracks and Slick moved into the circle of men looking down in shock at their brother.  He removed his helmet and knelt by the dead clone.  The troopers also removed their helmets.

He’d been a shiny; they were all shinies except for Twenty-three.  Slick nodded to himself.  If Twenty-three wasn’t damaged, he’d already be taking charge of the group as the most experienced trooper, saying a few words or giving comfort to the dead clone’s closest brother.  But Slick had been right and Twenty-three stood there in silence, the muscles of his jaw twitching.

Slick looked down at the dead shiny then stood and gazed at his new squad.  “It’s good to get the incompetent ones out of the way.”  He looked at the scars on Twenty-three’s face, inspecting them.  “I hope you can keep up; scars mean you’re slow.  Just keep up and the squad will cover you.”

Twenty-three flinched.  

Slick glanced down at the body.  “Pack him up for the morgue,” he told them.  Then, when no one moved, he raised an eyebrow in question.  “You do know how to prep a body for return, don’t you?”

Only then did one of the troopers bend down and begin the process.

Slick turned and looked out toward where the snipers had been, as if guarding the others but his mouth was dry and bitter, his stomach churning.

He’d started the cruelty and it wouldn’t end until these troopers were free men.  


	9. Slick's Plans for his Squad

It would have been a good squad - an excellent squad - if Slick wasn't going to break them. With the exception of Twenty-three they had names; Jester introduced them all to Slick somewhere during the middle of asking endless questions. That was Gus and this was Twenty-three who had been at Geonosis. Punch and Sketch were brothers, and he was Jester.

"Because I'm always so serious," he joked though his smile faded as he looked at the body of their squad mate who fallen to his death. "Zev named me," he added in a quieter tone, his fingers lightly reaching toward the corpse then falling to his side.

Jester asked good questions and made interesting observations. Mostly Twenty-three, but occasionally one of the others, would nod or add 'Good thought' to one of Jester's suggestions. Slick mentally catalogued them for future reference because they were shrewd and indicated an eye for detail. Mostly though, he observed the others as Jester spoke. He saw how they nodded and how their body language reinforced Jester's words.

They listened to each other, deferentially and without interruption and Slick saw their structure as they made their way up the hill towards the barracks and the armory. Their deference indicated Twenty-three and Sketch were their high-rankers.

Slick pulled up their Kamino scores in his helmet; it was Sketch and Punch highest-ranked, Twenty-three not one-one-thousandth of a point behind. To himself, Slick nodded as he pointed out the refugee camp to the squad and the reinforced barriers where the droids usually tried to attack. Twenty-three was not only point-good, but battle-experienced, introduced to the squad after medical had cleared him post-injury. His experience in the opening strike against the Seppies gave him the squad's respect though that wasn't the only battle he'd seen.

Twenty-three responded to their admiring respect like he was starving. With two previous squads dead, he'd be afraid of losing them. Yet, after only two weeks with them, he wasn't quite comfortable in knowing them as brothers.

Slick knew how to break Twenty-three before they reached the base entry gates.

He merely had to denigrate the trooper in front of the others - demerits should do nicely. A day's observation should tell him which rules Twenty-three was more likely to be lax on; very likely the same ones that bothered Slick because of their Kamino exactitude. The rules showing the Jedi thought them and battle conditions 'identical' in all ways. The rules showing the Jedi thought Slick and his brothers unable to think or be creative. Slick frowned as the general's words echoed through his mind.

_You need only obey orders, sergeant, and let the Jedi made the decisions you are not equipped to make._

A quick glance at the trooper showed his armor had been slightly trimmed at the inner elbow joint and at the back of the knee. It was just enough to not pinch the skin. Slick bit back a memory of how Knife trimmed his armor - large areas gouged out of his armor for maximum maneuverability. He shook his head to clear the memory, making his decision; a daily demerit for the experienced trooper until he had the armor Kamino-perfect. There would be a demerit for every trifling, picayune rule from Kamino that wasn't usually carried out in the field. Slick would make sure those rules were enforced in his squad.

The squad would be torn in listening to the experienced trooper or to their new sergeant. They'd hesitate, not knowing for sure who was right and Slick would simply quote regulations they could research themselves. Coming directly off Kamino, they wouldn't know that some rules couldn't be enforced.

He would isolate Twenty-three as 'different' from the squad; scarred and weaker because of it. He'd already started. _Just keep up and the squad will protect you._ The trooper had flinched as if he'd taken a blaster wound and Slick wondered how much 'breaking' he'd have to do to free Twenty-three from the Jedi and Kamino.

By the time they reached the morgue, Slick knew how to break Jester.

Jester took pride in being the squad's voice. Slick would shut that voice with disdain. It would weaken the entire squad, changing their structure and interpersonal relations, cracking them further apart as a squad and isolating them as individuals. It would destroy Jester.

"Do you talk in your sleep?" He didn't even turn around to acknowledge the trooper as his voice carried the smallest note of censure.

"No, sir," came the reply quickly. For a few heartbeats, Jester was silent then spoke again. "Sir, would it be alright if I traded out my vambrace with Zev's? I'd like to have something of his to keep."

Slick was already nodding with a small smile. "Of course, Jester." He'd need to start slow, to squeeze them of their confidence gradually so they wouldn't notice. "But make sure to have it certified at the armory. A fall like that probably damaged the armor." He made no mention of the trooper, as if the trooper was of less consequence than the armor. Slick didn't bother glancing back to see their expressions.

The brothers, Sketch and Punch, seemed like good, sturdy troopers; confident in themselves and each other. To break them, he'd first need to destroy the bond between them.

Slick scratched his chin as he absently watched his new squad turn in Zev's body, Jester softly saying remembrance as he removed the dead trooper's left vambrace, switching it for his own.

_Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Zev._

Absently, Slick signed off on the flimsiform for medical and Lieutenant Gray.

Would destroying the bond between Punch and Sketch be enough to break both troopers? No, their bond was of equals; not of a more capable brother keeping track of someone just a little less than Kamino-perfect. There weren't supposed to be any _katini_ in the GAR but when it was a squad that passed the finals rather than individuals, some weaker ones slipped through.

He'd think on the two brothers. Separate them, of course, to start. He'd give them different duty hours but he'd observe them a bit more before he finalized plans for Punch and Sketch.

Slick wasn't sure about Gus. He was low man, last ranked, but that seemed fine by him. He contributed to the conversation with the squad with no apparent jealousy or envy. He complimented Jester's observances, asked Twenty-three how it had been done in battle, and elicited Punch and Sketch's responses.

Slick pondered the questions. How did you break the low man in a squad? You broke the others by showing their strengths as liabilities but how did you break a trooper who didn't consider himself anything but himself?

It came to him as a revelation as he stared at the dead shiny.

You took away his 'self'. He would promote Gus as his second; praise his weaknesses as strength then simply let the force of reality take over. Gus would fall and shatter.


	10. Cruelty

“Here, Jaiya,” Slick handed the bag or rations over to the woman.  She was an older woman, her hair turning gray.  She wasn’t as plump as she’d been only a week ago, proof that what he’d been told was true.

Jaiya reached for the bag and opened it slightly, her lips turning into an O of surprise, then smiling.  “Thank you, Slick.  We appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

He looked away, only partially to maintain a watch for droids and partially in embarrassment at having neglected Maruli’s friends since her death.  “Maruli told me the other women wouldn’t let you into the refugee center but I didn’t know they’d prevent you and the others from going to the food collection either.”

Her lips pursed tightly.  “It’s only a few but, unhappily, they’re the ones ruling that tiny roost.”  She put her hand gently on his arm, “You’re young and may not yet understand how important free…”

“Jaiya!”

Both Jaiya and Slick turned their heads towards the shout.  A younger woman - almost a girl - was running toward them.

“Jaiya!  Laine’s back and she’s hurt!”  The girl stopped at seeing a GAR trooper then, recognizing Slick from his armor, she nodded and grabbed Jaiya’s arm.  “Hurt bad.”

Jaiya turned and swiftly moved back to the damaged building.  It looked about to crumble but Slick knew the inside wasn’t as damaged as the outer portion and was exceptionally comfortable.  Marula had brought him here several times; mostly to introduce him and share what little they had with her friends.  They were mostly women who sold their time to be with men, some few children - ‘wonderful accidents’, Jaiya called them - and a few men too old or too wounded to fight and too stubborn to leave Christophsis City.

They were good company and those few times had been filled with music and good memories.  Laine, he remembered, was a tall woman with hair like gold, easy laughter and friendly hugs.  Beautiful, too.  Almost as beautiful as Maruli though a far better dancer.

There was no laughter in her now.  She was curled up in pain, sobbing, trying to clasp torn clothing around her.  Already, her skin was turning angry purple-red where she’d been beaten  The two old men had left the room and Slick caught sight of the last child being taken out by one of the women.  The woman turned, her face full of sympathy and understanding as she looked at Laine and the few women attending her.  

Without hesitation, Slick pulled off his helmet as he reached for the medical pack at his belt.  He had some anodyne that would relieve the pain but she seemed far more wounded than the abrasions on her skin would seem to indicate.  

“Hey, Laine,” he bent to one knee.  “It’s Slick.  I have some painkiller.  Needle delivery; you’ll just feel a little prick…”  Slick stopped as she flinched away from him pushing herself towards the other women.

“She’s already felt a little prick,” muttered Gelva angrily as she hovered protectively around Laine.

“She’s been raped,” Jaiya said softly as she covered weeping Laine with one of the covers and reached around her shoulders.  “Come on, Laine, we need to see how badly you’ve been hurt.  Upstairs.”

“I can carry her, Jaiya,” Slick offered, reluctant to simply pick her up after that flinch.

Laine shook her head violently as she wept and Jaiya gave a tiny shake of her own head at Slick with a small look of sorrow.

As Gelva stood to follow the two women up the stairs, Slick handed her the anodyne.  “Against her skin; inner arm is best.  It won’t leave her drowsy or interfere with any other medications.”

“We don’t have any medications,” Gelva said sourly, but she took the small syringe.

Slick waited.  The children and women had returned to the main room but they were more subdue, the women shushing the children when they got too noisy.

Gelva came down, all angrily tense but handed back the syringe delivery system.  “Thanks, Slick.  It’s really appreciated.  Laine’s falling asleep and Jaiya will be down in a moment.”  Gelva’s eyes were narrowed in hate, but she wasn’t looking at Slick.  “Laine will be alright.”

\----------

Two days later Slick could see immediately that Laine wouldn’t be alright.  It wasn’t in her bruises either but in the way she looked at him with eyes wide with terror and startled at any unexpected noise.  It was in the way she moved, all quiet and silent instead of with dancing laughter.  In an odd way, she no longer reminded him of Maruli alive but only of Maruli dead and buried under the crystal done.

Slick went to Jaiya as she sliced rations he’d given them.  “Is there a man or a group of men I should kill, Jaiya?  For Laine’s sake?”

Jaiya shook her head.  “No, killing him would only anger the citizens.”  She paused, her lips tight.  “He was a _proper_ husband, never straying to visit us disreputable women of the night.”  She snorted.  “He was too cheap to pay so he moralized that prostitutes get what they deserve and for refusing him, he decided Laine needed to be raped.”  In her anger, she was trembling and she put down the knife.  “I think I’d better set this aside for a moment.”

“I’ll do it, you prepare the rest.”  Slick picked up the knife and began slicing the remainder of the rations.  After a moment of silence, he asked Jaiya a question that had been bothering him since seeing Laine all afraid.  “Will she ever get better?  Dance again?  Laugh?”

Jaiya shrugged as her fingers picked through the bowl of green moss for hard-shelled insects and small pebbles to discard.  “Some people do.  Some don’t.  Rape breaks people because it’s a violation of personal integrity and isn’t something that anyone can forget.  Some people come to terms with it and even enjoy being with lovers again.”

Slick tilted his head in thought and looked down at the small pieces.  “People,” he asked, “or simply women.”

“People, Slick.”  She licked her lips as Slick turned and stared at her in horror.  “Children are easy, they usually don’t understand what’s happening or how much they’ve been injured until it’s over.  Girls, boys, women, men.”  Jaiya sighed.  “All you need to rape someone is to be stronger or trickier.”

In the silence following Jaiya’s statement, Slick woodenly scooped up the ration pieces and dropped them into the boiling pot where Jaiya set the washed moss.  “Broken.  Some get better and some don’t,” he murmured to himself with a nod.

“Even the ones that get better, they never quite get all better.”  Jaiya had a firm grip on the handle and was stirring the rations into the moss as it wilted in the boiling water.  “Maybe Gelva’s plan for the…”  She glanced up, looking out the makeshift window of the kitchen with a distant expression then she blinked.  “Here’s Gelva, now.  Right in time for dinner.  Slick, if you stir, I’ll set the table and get the others.”

“I can’t stay, Jaiya, but I’d like to talk to Gelva.”

“Certainly, Slick,” said Gelva as she came through the door.  “Oh, yum,”  her voice was droll, “smells like crystal moss stew.  Again.”

“Flavored with GAR rations,” added Slick with understanding.  It was pretty much what everyone was eating and no one liked it.

“I don’t know which is my favorite,” she grimaced. “Crystal moss stew with rations or GAR ration stew with crystal moss.”

“I know what I prefer,” chuckled Slick, “the water.”

Gelva snorted a chuckle and put her hand over her mouth.  They were both quiet a moment.

“What did you do, Gelva?  Jaiya indicated you did something to the man who raped Laine, but I’d like to know.”

She shrugged and flipped back her dark hair with a graceful gesture.  “I know his daily habits and met him on the pathway.  I opened my shirt, then lay down on the pathway, begging him to take care of my needs.”  Gelva’s voice became husky, enticing, but Slick recognized some note of cruelty in it.  “I panted for him, saying I didn’t have a man, that I needed a man.  I whimpered and writhed, pulling up my skirt and put my fingers to myself.  Saying it had been soooo long and I’d take care of any man who satisfied me.”  

There was silence in the kitchen, the only noise the bubble of the stew and the distant noise of Jaiya gathering everyone.

Gelva’s eyes glittered.  “When he dropped his pants in preparation to coupling with me, I laughed.”  There was a smug, tight line on her lips.  “I pointed at him and I laughed.  I shrieked in laughter as he grew smaller and smaller, embarrassed and covering himself with his hands.  I laughed until I cried then jumped up, tightened my shirt and sauntered down the pathway as he was still waddling around with his clothes around his ankles.”  She paused then spoke quietly.  “Nothing destroys a man so much as a woman laughing at him but I would much rather have killed him.”

On the way to the meetup point for the squad, Slick thought on the twin cruelties of rape and laughter; and how to use them to free the men of his squad from their Kamino-taught cages.


	11. Sweet Fruit

The bartender handed Slick a note with the drink. “From a lady, sir.”

Slick finished the drink first then leisurely opened the folded flimsi. This time there was no request for information though he had the name of the new general and commander for her.

Jedi General Obi-wan Kenobi and Clone Commander-2224, Cody, would be leading the 212th as soon as the blockade was broken. At least the general was human and Lieutenant Grey was counting the days until he could relinquish command to a clone who had actually experienced it. Ferritin and Barlex has already documented his leadership and tactical abilities to present to the new general and commander. Grey deserved further commander’s training and Slick had agreed, adding his own recommendation. Grey had landed as a raw, shiny rookie with lieutenant’s blue in the midst of battle then found himself the ranking officer by its end.

Christophsis and it’s mineral resources must be more important than they seemed. Another company, the 501st was accompanying the new command of the 212th. Slick didn’t think it would be long to break the blockade.

There was only a set of numbers on the thin flimsi sheet. Irritation flickered over his expression. Did she think he enjoyed these games? They were obviously coordinates of a meeting place.

He gestured for another drink. Funny how there was plenty of alcohol available but no food though he knew it was because you only needed inedible plant refuse to make it. He nodded and set several coins on the table for the bartender. He’d been moving into higher level games of sabaac and winning. He drank this sour brew flavored with his anger but had the code of the note solved before he finished the drink.

Pulling on his helmet, he toggled the location of his troopers. He didn’t know why he was angry to find they were right where he had put them. “Gus, you and Punch do a round by the women’s house,” he ordered. “I’ve heard there were tinnies in that area a day ago. Chopper, you and Jester do a parameter check of the camp. Assist Barlex and his squad.”

Sometimes he had to be careful how he assigned them. He wouldn’t put Gus with either Sketch or Jester who would teach him what he needed to know about sex. Slick needed Gus confused. Nor would he assign Chopper to check on Maruli’s friends. For now he wanted to keep the scarred trooper away from women who would flirt with him and find nothing wrong with his scars because he was with their protector.

“I’ve gotten a wild rumor about the eastside that I’ll check on. Shouldn’t take long.”

He longed to hear one of them disagree with him but all he heard as he mounted the BARC was assent.

\----------------------------

“You’ve given me reasonable information, Slick.” Ventress paused a moment to set the fruit to her lips then made a gesture, the untasted dark red globe in her hand punctuating her words. “But I want more.”

It was all Slick could do to watch her face rather than that delicious-looking sweetplum in her hand. He had smelled the fragrance of the bowl of fruit from across the room when he had entered, now it was almost unendurable. They were ten days into the blockade and everyone was starving. Already the clones had lost weight they could ill-afford to lose. A couple of the very oldest and youngest refugees had died. Tempers were frayed, at best and she had a basket of fruit - muja and shuura, blumfruit and sweetplums - sitting on the table with a wrapped cloak and some flimsis.

He was sure she had planned that and it only made him angrier.

“Finding out Kenobi and Skywalker are leading two companies here is very good,” Ventress walked closer to him as she spoke, her fine, white teeth puncturing the skin of the fruit and a bit of the juice staining her lips. She leaned toward him, her sweet-fruited breath on his face. “But I have an assignment for you now.”

Anger ran through Slick but he tamped it down. Until she, sure of her power and authority, smirked and took a bit from the fruit. Purple juice spurted from the fruit, filling her mouth and she half-closed her eyes in delight.

With a growl, Slick grabbed her face and pushed his own against hers, sucking the juice hungrily from her bottom lip. Then he drew his face back again.

“Don’t ever tempt me like that again, Ventress. And don’t think that simply turning on your light saber will be enough.” His voice was a feral snarl even as his gauntleted hand touched hers holding the light saber against his armor. “There are far more clones, far more copies of me, than even you can deal with.”

She took a step back, slipping the light saber back into its holster and eyed him contemplatively, no longer playing games. “There are no copies of you, Slick. You are unique.” She smiled and Force-called one of the sweetplums to her hand then offered him the dark red fruit, swollen with juice. “For you,” her lips quirked. “My faithful servant.”

He ignored the fruit as he looked over the flimsis she’d given him so she set it next to his helmet.

“I do what I do for my own reasons, Asajj. I am no one’s faithful servant; least of all yours.” His finger traced a line on one of the flimsis as he nodded and tapped it with his finger.

“I suppose destroying the armory is my work.”

She smiled back at him, a taunting smile with red, juice-stained lips that Slick acknowledged with a nod.

“I’ll have to do that separately.” He tapped the plan with his finger. “If I present this plan to command, I’ll be obliged to participate.” He looked up from the paper. “The armory first. I don’t trust your clankers to remember I’m working for you now.”

Her reply was a languid shrug of nonchalance that flowed down her body. “Good help is so difficult to find these days.”

A smile flickered across his lips. For all that he hated Asajj Ventress, sometimes Slick understood her.

\-----------------------------

Slick inspected the sweetfruit. It was dark purple, edged with red with only a thin skin encasing the juicy pulp. The smell of it was sweet and fragrant and he closed his eyes as he held it to his nose. Slick was suddenly surrounded by the smell of it and could only remember Maruli laughing. He decided to share it with the others.

He’d been harsh to them lately, harsher than he planned but it was so easy to push; to try and reach their limit. Perhaps, if even one of them had lost his temper; if Jester yelled at him or Chopper swung his fists, he would have given up on his plan for their freedom. He would have dropped to his knees and begged their forgiveness. But they were obedient little clone slaves and took everything he did to them and did everything he demanded of them without a hint of rebellion.

Their unquestioning obedience only made him angrier at them, harsher than he usually intended in an attempt to break their conditioning. It was his own anger and loss of control that scared him the most.

How far would he go? He had humiliated Gus again; raping him in the darkness while the others pretended sleep thinking it a lover’s tryst. He had set Gus as his stake in a game of sabaac against some of the Christophsans. Had he truly folded on a winning hand simply to break Gus?

Gus hadn’t broken yet. He had hollows under his eyes and very little appetite for the ration soup they were sharing. More than the others, he was turning into a gaunt shadow of himself. He was Slick’s shadow, following him, repeating his words to the squad.  

Jester had come alone to his office, asking him to not push Gus sexually and even offering himself as a more willing and knowledgeable lover. In white-hot rage, Slick had almost back-fisted Jester for the proposition though it was perfectly reasonable. Sketch occasionally told him, in a concerned voice, that he was pushing Twenty-three too hard.

They were a good squad and he was goading them to their limits and beyond. He was so close to their breaking point. Slick hated himself for what he was doing and wondered if he would break before them.

He took a breath and straightened in his armor, slipping the fruit into a pouch. That it was so hard meant there was hope. Hard things - hard exercise, hard work, hard battles - they always brought forth victory, exhilaration, the knowledge of new experience.

To do this to his squad was hard, so it must be worthwhile.

For a moment a thought whispered in his mind…

_Mourning the brothers of his Kamino squad had been the hardest thing he’d ever done and nothing worthwhile had come from it._

...but he pushed it aside contemplating how he would set up the explosives in the armory.


	12. Sweet Fruit II

“Gentlemen, I have a small treat for you today.”

Slick brought out the sweetplum he had obtained from Ventress and set it on the table.

The first reaction was Twenty-three’s.  His eyes narrowed and the scars on the side of his head pulled together as he inspected the fruit with a hesitant frown.  Then he looked down, to the side of the bunk and shook his head.

“Not hungry,” he said, avoiding Slick’s eyes.

It was a blatant lie.  Everyone, from the lowest Christophsian in camp to Senator Prince Organa, was hungry.  Many, including the clones, were starving.

Slick let an eyebrow curve upward in surprise, but was inexplicably pleased at Twenty-three.  Then he recognized the defiance in Twenty-three’s refusal.  At least it was something other than the ingrained obedience he experienced so far.

Jester’s hands were nervously polishing his deece.  He did that almost constantly now.  He glanced at Gus who was standing at the table and apathetically staring at the small fruit as if he didn’t know what it was.

“May… maybe,” stuttered Jester as he licked his lips.  “It should go to Sergeant’s Second, sir.  G...Gus has been d… doing a lot and… and d… deserves a little extra.”  He gave a tentative smile at Gus but Gus turned red in anger at the reminder that he was the sergeant’s sexual toy and glared at Jester.

Jester bowed his face at Gus’ anger then looked to the deece and began rubbing the weapon harder.

“Yes,” nodded Punch before anyone else could say a word.  “Gus should have it.”  

“He’s turning into a walking skeleton quicker than the rest of us.”  Sketch, just off duty, added as he began removing his armor.

Again, Gus turned red, this time in embarrassment.  He couldn’t keep the food down anymore, too worried about what he’d need to do for Slick.  His stomach rebelled anytime the sergeant called him or sat with him.  Even the thought of Slick caused his stomach to roll and twist and refuse whatever he tried to eat.

Gus only stared at the ripe, dark purple fruit with its heady scent that spread throughout the barracks, covering the scent of close-quarters living and the ever-present smell of weapons.  

Twenty-three stood, keeping his face turned from the sergeant’s eyes, and strode to the table.  His big hand covered the fruit for a moment then he held it to his teeth, barely slicing through the skin of the fruit.  

Wanting to see how this played out, Slick didn’t say a word though he’d find some way to give Twenty-three a few demerits before night watch.

“It’s good, Gus.  You’ll like it.”  Gus merely stared at the scarred face of the other clone.

 **T** wenty-three gestured to Jester who also stood and came over to the table.  His hands were covered with machine oil so Twenty-three held the fruit to his lips.  

“Yeah, Gus.  It’s real sweet.”  Jester smiled, mostly at Twenty-three, then turned back to his refuge and the deece.

Punch and Sketch also put their lips to the fruit, only tantalizing themselves with a tiny touch of its juice to their lips as Jester and Twenty-three had done.

“All yours, Gus.”  Punch said even as he nodded to Twenty-three and Sergeant Slick recognized they were creating a smaller squad-within-a-squad with Twenty-three as their leader.  

His eyes widened in delight.  It was new, something that he’d never heard of any other squad doing.  It was progress on their way to freedom.

Then his eyes narrowed and his lips tightened into a thin, angry line.  He wanted his brothers free, not simply rearranged into a new, Jedi-acceptable pattern.  His brothers needed to learn to depend on no one but themselves.

“Eat it,” commanded Twenty-three as he lifted Gus’ hand and slipped the sweetplum onto his palm.  

Gus’ fingers closed around the fruit hesitantly as Twenty-three nodded and gently nudged Gus’ hand, holding the fruit, toward his lips.  

Gus’ body began to tremble as he took his first bit of the sweetplum, but he ate it slowly, chewing thoroughly and savoring each mouthful of macerated fruit.

He nodded, still staring at the table.  “It is good.  Thank you, sir.”

Slick wondered if that ‘thank you, sir’ had been to him or to Twenty-three then shook his head slightly.  He’d need to break Twenty-three next.  Gus was as good as broken, another round of gambling with the civilians would destroy him.  Jester, compulsive about his deece, had begun stuttering and was well on his way towards breaking.  Slick had started to work on Punch and Sketch next, but not if Twenty-three thought to become the lead in their new little squad in order to protect them.

“Sketch, I’ll want a post-inspection debrief as soon as you shower and eat.”  Slick decided he’d ask Sketch for a drawing of a sexually submissive Punch, marked with Slick’s ownership.  That would certainly separate the two brothers-by-choice.

“Of course, Sergeant,” Sketch replied as his pulled out his shower kit.  He reached out and gave Punch a quick clasp of his hand as his vode strode from the barracks room toward his own night duty of monitoring the refugee camp.

Sergeant Slick stared at Gus who hadn’t moved since Slick had entered the room.  Slick decided that Sketch was right and Gus was turning into a skeleton.  He wouldn’t use Gus until that small bit of fresh fruit had been digested.  “Gus, go assist Lieutenant Grey at the command center.  I won’t need you.”

The gasp of surprised relief from Gus was heard by all the troopers but ignored.

“Twenty-three, Jester, I want you to check on the women’s house.”  He saw Twenty-three’s shock at being assigned to check on the females.  “Just keep your helmet on, Twenty-three, women don’t like scars.”  He gestured quickly at Twenty-three’s face.  “Stop by food collection and see if you can get a few ration bars for them.”

_Yes, the women and the cruelty of laughter.  That would break Twenty-three._


	13. Preparations

Preparing the armory for destruction was easy; Slick had merely set up several landmines in the holding stacks with active detonators instead of the holding stubs.  He had activated some of the quieter energy weapons into stealth mode.  They’d be relatively unnoticed and stable until the landmines blew.  He had slipped some liquid detonate into the AT-TEs’ laser cannons ball joints.  Quiescent; nothing would happen until something jolted the liquid.  Something like an explosion.  He set several squibs around the inside perimeter of the armory.  Though not likely to destroy anything outright, they would augment the initial explosions as well as begin others.

“It looks good,” he said to the trooper as he exited the armory shed and signed the inspection sheet.  “I’m looking forward to using these against the Seppie droids.”

“Yes, sir.  Do you know how soon we’ll be using them?” asked the sentry.  He was there more to keep the occasional refugee away than anything else since the armory was deep within the camp perimeter.

Slick smiled.  “No, but I do know that our new general and commander should be landing as soon as they get through the blockade.”

The sentry gave a small groan of hunger.  “I hope they bring food.  I’m ready to gnaw on the next droid leg I see.”

Slick smiled.  “I’m sure they’ll be bringing supplies; including rat bars.”

The sentry winced.  “Actually, I’m hoping for anything but.”

“And a proper mess,” Slick chuckled to the trooper’s relaxed demeanor, knowing there was a grin behind the helmet.  He moved on but hadn’t made ten steps before the sentry called out.  

“Sir!  I need your proper designation.”

Slick paused and turned, speaking to the guard.  “I haven’t thought of myself as nothing more than my designation in quite a while.”  He scratched out ‘Sgt Slick’ and paused, once again irritated by regulations that took away from the clones’ humanity.  He overwrote the small space with CS-21-8644.

* * * * * * * * * *

Back in the barracks, Twenty-three and Jester were just arriving back from patrol.  Sketch was asleep in his bunk furthest from the door.

“Everything clear around the women’s house, sergeant,” reported Twenty-three as he stood to attention, his voice low enough not to wake Sketch.

Slick stared at his scarred face, enough for Twenty-three to drop his eyes in shame.  “You didn’t take off your helmet?”

“No sir,” he mumbled.

“Good, women don’t like scars,” he said, almost gently but Twenty-three drew in upon himself.

“Understood, sir.”

“They… they had some good intel, sir,” cut in Jester with only a little stutter.  “We re...reported it to Lieutenant Grey in the command center.”  He licked his lips lightly then glanced down to the floor.  “G..g...Gus was there, sir.  D...doing good.  May...may...may…”  Jester twisted his head in anguish as his stutter grew worse then clenched his teeth shut, unable to get out the words.

“Maybe you should assign Gus to the lieutenant permanently, sir.”  That was Twenty-three, still looking down at the floor in shame, covering for Jester and Jester nodded jerkily, still angry at himself for developing a stutter.

Slick ignored the suggestion.  “Did you take them any rations?”

“Yes...sir,” replied Jester shakily.  “L...last f...f...four.”

“We also took out a droid squad in the area, sergeant.  Reported that to command as well.”  For a moment Twenty-three opened his lips but paused.

Slick arched an eyebrow and tilted his head.  “Well?”

“You should check with the lieutenant, sir, but Jester and I believe the new forces are in the process of attacking the blockade.  Lieutenant Grey implied it was in the early stages and not to spread it around.”

“Anything else?”

“No, sir.”  Twenty-three shook his head and Jester echoed this response.

Slick nodded his head.  “I’ll check in with command.”  He paused then spoke.  “Since you’re back early…”

Both men stiffened, their expressions stony as they stood, expecting some makeshift duty.

“...go grab something from the mess after ensuring the barracks is inspection ready.”  Slick sighed, as if in sympathy.  “If there’s anything to grab.  Twenty-three...”

“Sir?”  

Slick could see he knew what was coming.

“Demerit for spreading information in defiance of Lieutenant Grey’s orders.  Simply telling me to check in with command would have been sufficient.”

For a moment Twenty-three was quiet, his thoughts evident on his face.  Then his expression became blank and he stared at Sergeant Slick.  “Understood, sir.  It won’t happen again.”

Slick gave an acknowledging nod as he turned towards the door.  No, Twenty-three wouldn’t do it again.  He hadn’t repeated a single one of the ‘infractions’ that Slick had dinged him for and Slick had had to look hard for more Kamino rules that were nonsense in reality to punish the trooper.  He’d had to stretch to make that comment, with its ‘I believe’ and ‘Grey implied’, fit the reprimand.  Grey had probably glanced at both troopers with a raised eyebrow and a tiny shake of his head.

Twenty-three could have used those; stating it was his opinion and Grey hadn’t  _ said _ a single word, as defense against the demerit.  He’d thought about it; Slick had seen that in his scarred face.  He’d thought about it and then let the reprimand stand.  He hadn’t objected.  That had angered Slick even though he knew that Twenty-three didn’t object because Slick would only have raised the punishment.

And, Slick wondered if he would have punished Twenty-three more or would he have retracted the reprimand for that tiny piece of rebellion.

He  _ wanted _ them to rebel, to throw off the slavery of Kamino and the Jedi.

They weren’t rebelling only tightening their adherence to Kamino rules and Slick wondered if all his work was in vain.  

“I won’t be back until late,” he said as he grabbed his helmet, running his fingers over the rim.  “I need to talk to an informant and it may take a while.”  

_ Maruli.  He wanted to talk to Maruli, to hold her in his arms and tell her about… all this. _

Behind him, he heard the two troopers begin to put up their gear.

“He’s going to the crystal ruins,” said Twenty-three in a quiet voice to Jester.  “He’s disappointed in us and going to visit his old squad.”

Slick almost laughed though he pulled on his helmet to mask the tears beginning to form.  Twenty-three was so close.  Why had he started all this anyway?  They were good troopers, they could have been an exemplary squad.  

_They would have died under some Jedi’s orders_ , Slick told himself as he hardened his emotions.  He would have lost them as he'd lost his Kamino brothers and Maruli.


	14. Planning a Party

“I want a feast.  About fifteen people.  No, make that twenty.”  He stared Ventress in her icy eyes.

“There isn’t the food, Slick.  Even we Separatists are…”

“Don’t lie to me.”  He turned from her to look around the building; less for any signs of a trap than simple curiosity.  “You have access to the blockade and beyond.”  He slapped the plans onto the table; hers originally but with his adaptations according to what he knew including the intel she so dearly wanted.  “I’ve set up most of these already.  The armory in particular is ready to go.  It will take out ninety percent of everything in storage.  I’ve included links that will take out most of the big guns and AT-ATs that could crush your droid army.”

She glanced surreptitiously toward the flimsi then back to him.  He rolled his eyes slightly and shoved it directly in front of her.  

“Here,” his finger stabbed the armory inventory.  “And,” his finger leafed through two more pages listing the equipment including AT-ATs and tanks, “here.”

His finger.  Even in his anger, Slick couldn’t make himself think that he was doing the unthinkable.  Some minor part of him was treasonous, not him.  He was doing this to free his brothers from slavery.  

As she read, he turned back toward the opening of the building where she had wanted to meet.  There was so much glass and crystal, cool blue and aqua green, like being underwater, touched with gold.  It made him remember dark hair and love warm to the center of his being.  But it was all cracked and broken.  There wasn’t a whole piece anywhere.

Behind him Slick heard the slight ruffle of flimsis as Asajj looked through the inventory, the modified plans, and all the damage he would achieve.  It would be handing over the entire company for the death of only a few.

“You’ll note that Senator Organa’s entourage is being handed over to you provided you leave the medical contingent alone.”  His plans, his terms.  “Sleeper gas.  They won’t have a bruise on them.”

“Ingenious.  I also notice that you call for converting the barracks into a prison camp.”  She paused, shifting her body slightly.  Slick could see her reflection in the fragmented glass.  “I’ve heard that clones are extremely difficult to imprison.”

“Yes, but I can make it work.  I have plans for my  _ vode _ .”  Though he wasn’t sure yet how he’d implement them.  Perhaps he could use Jaiya or Gelva as a front and he could be imprisoned with the others; teaching them to be free as they made escape plans that would never be implemented.

“No prison for any Jedi, particularly not Kenobi nor Skywalker,” she demanded with hard sparks in her eyes.

Slick snorted.  “They’re your worry.  You can serve them to your droids for supper for all I care about them.”  He turned toward her, relaxing into parade rest with his helmet on his belt and his hands behind his back.  “The feast; I don’t mean a feast for Coruscant.  I want something that will be a feast for war-torn Christophsis.”

“Ah,” she relaxed as well, easing back from the desk and leaning in the chair.  “Slightly easier.”

“Meat, fresh fruit, vegetables.”  Slick brought his hands forward and made a palms-up gesture.  “Perhaps a few kitchen staples.  I don’t know.”

Asajj nodded regally.  “I do.  Things that would have been easily attainable a year ago.  Something for a small celebration like an engagement or the lifeday celebration of the family patriarch.”

Slick, having no idea about civilian customs, tilted his head in assent.

She sensed his ignorance and gave a small feminine chuckle.  “Trust me.”

His eyes turned hard like the cracked amber windows of the entry.  “Never.” 

Ventress was quiet as her eyes inspected him.  “You must love so deeply, to hate so violently.”

Her voice was a gentle murmur and Slick couldn’t identify the emotions.   

He wasn’t sure who he hated more, himself or her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sergeant Slick looked around the barracks at the troopers.  Even now they weren’t broken.  They would be before night turned to dawn.  Irrevocably broken and cracked beyond repair.

Sketch and Punch, both off-duty together for once and just out of the showers, were playfully sparring with their towels.  Gus was sitting next to Jester, both men discussing with anticipation, what to expect at the ‘party’.

“It’s probably all black market,” Slick said, letting them know to expect something nice.  “But Jaiya said she and the others really wanted to thank us for keeping them safe.”  He shrugged.  “Maybe it really is from some country cousin who isn’t affected by this war.”

He glanced towards Twenty-three, armored and prepared for kitchen duty.  He’d showered and Slick knew it was part of the trooper’s normal practice of being prepared for any eventuality.  He really didn’t expect he was included in the invitation Slick had extended to the squad earlier but, just in case, he had showered and shaved as well as the rest of them.

“Armor up, squad,” he ordered lightly then smiled at Twenty-three.  “Glad to see you’re ready to go.  You can take point.”

Twenty-three gave a little jerk.  “Then I will be going to the women’s house with you?”

“You’re part of the squad that protects them.”  Slick nodded then sighed.  “I’ve spoken to Jaiya and explained about your scars.”

_ He’d spoken to Gelva and explained that he wanted Twenty-three broken.   _

_ “Not embarrassed, nor shamed but thoroughly and utterly broken.” _

_ “Why?”  She had asked and for the first time in his dealings with Maruli’s friends he had prevaricated.   _

_ “Because I want it.” _

_ Her lips had pursed in anger but Slick didn’t want to explain that it took being broken to realize you were a slave.  She’d ask him how he knew. _

_ “I owe you, Slick.  We all owe you for so much but there’s no reason for that kind of cruelty.” _

_ “There is a reason, Gelva.  I simply can’t tell you.” _

_ She had gauged him as carefully as Ventress had.  “Not for anyone else would I do that without a very good reason.” _

_ “But you’ll break him?” _

_ Slowly, Gelva had nodded. _

Twenty-three flinched.  “I can keep my face hidden.”

Slick shook his head.  “Jaiya says that she’ll warn the other women, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”  Slick played his lower lip with the edge of his teeth like he played the squad.  “I don’t know, Twenty-three, I truly don’t know.  Women don’t like scars and I’d say keep your face hidden, but…”  He shrugged and took a breath.  “It’s up to you.”

“You’ll have to take off your bucket to eat,” chimed Jester with sparkling eyes and a cheery grin then he turned to Slick.  “Even if it’s the same crystal-moss stew we’re being served in the mess, the company will make it exceptional.”

“I don’t know, Jester,” said Twenty-three as he turned his bucket thoughtfully in his hands.  “If I keep on the helmet, I don’t have to eat the stew.”  A corner of his lips twitched in amusement.  “I’ll see how it develops.”


	15. A Broken Family

 

It developed, to use Twenty-three’s words, beautifully.

As they approached the women’s house, the bombed-out rubbled building seemed friendly with golden rays reflecting from the sun and lighting the interior through a makeshift window augmented by candles and reflectors.  Music and laughter could be heard from the interior.

“Check around,” Slick gestured Punch and Sketch to one side of the building; Chopper and Gus to the other.  He and Jester stayed back and covered the others.

“Perimeter is all clear, sergeant,” came Punch’s voice echoed by Gus.  

When they all but Twenty-three removed their helmets, they were assaulted with the scent of roast nuna so overwhelming after the famine that it drove them back a step.  On the table were linens and plates; bowls full of fruit and platters of nuts and a large empty space.  

Jester raised his nose into the air and took a deep inhalation then closed his eyes and simply stood, trembling in anticipation.  One of the waiting women, Bayla, laughed and grabbed his hands holding his helmet.  

“You can sit with me,” she giggled sweetly and pulled him towards one of the cushioned benches near the three older men playing music; two with stringed instruments and the third with a drum.  

Jester blushed, glanced at Slick then, at the small nod, set his bucket down by the doorway and moved with her.

“I think I’ll check if any assistance is needed in the kitchen,” offered Gus as he set his bucket next to Jester’s and looked at Slick for permission.  Slick nodded.  

Laine was part of the kitchen staff now, still flinching at a look from any man.  Gus wouldn’t understand why, but he would take her terror and shakes into consideration.  He’d be a gentle presence with no expectations and no pity.  His unassuming presence would help heal Laine while her unexplained terror would reinforce Gus’ confusion.

“Come dance with us.”  Norya reached for Sketch’s hand while Punch was tugged to the center of the room by Ensa.  Both troopers grinned and followed, neither glancing at Slick for approval but today it didn’t matter.

Though he’d think of some petty rule to ding them with.

“You’ll need to teach them, Norya,” Slick spoke to the girls with a laugh as he moved towards his regular seat not too far from the musicians.  Jaiya joined him, her large frame wrapped in brilliant scarves as striped with silver thread as her hair.  

“Oh, this is such good luck, Slick.  I had no idea that things weren’t so bad in the backcountry.  Maruli’s cousin brought in a veritable feast.  He said he’d heard that things were dire in the city and he was only sorry she was no longer here.”  She was silent a moment then gave Slick’s hand a gentle pat.  “I know you miss her, Slick.  I am so very sorry.”

“Thank you Jaiya.”  He bent his forehead to her shoulder, his eyes closed.  “I’ll remember Mar to my dying day.”

She rubbed his shoulder and he raised his head to give her a smile then he looked around.

Unmoving and hesitant, Twenty-three stood by the door, helmeted.  Slick saw him tilt his face towards the musicians and his head bobbed along with the beat of the drum for a moment.  Then he looked around the room, war-worn but comfortable.  He moved to reach under a chair and brought out a doll, one of the children’s toys missed in cleaning.  Slick knew the children would be at elsewhere tonight.  Gently, Twenty-three set it on the table, taking a moment to reposition it when it tipped over.

Gelva moved to Twenty-three, still fully armored.  “You can’t smell how delicious it all is with that on.”  She tapped the cheek of his helmet with a flirtatious smile.

Slowly, Twenty-three removed his bucket.  Keeping his head bowed, he turned to face Gelva, to let her see the ragged, torn side of his face.

Slick saw her eyes widen in surprise and her lips purse in thought.  Then she reached her hand on his gauntlet.  

“Isn’t that better?”  

There was another small pause of Twenty-three as he turned his helmet in his hand, then set it with the others.  He gave a nod and cleared his throat.  His voice was raspy when he spoke.

“Much better.  Thank you.”

Slick took his attention away from Gelva and Twenty-three to watch Norya and Ensa laughingly instruct Punch and Sketch in the steps of some dance.  Even the musicians were laughing in camaraderie and offering to repeat some of the music to the more complicated steps.

Jester and Bayla were simply talking, Bayla’s eyes sparkling with admiration for the trooper and Jester’s bright with enjoyment.  Slick leaned a little in their direction to hear Jester regaling her with information about slicing electronics equipment.

He sighed.  Poor Bayla; she’d be bored to tears.  But after another thought, Slick wondered what else Jester could talk about.  Battling droids?  Their upbringing on Kamino?  The other troopers of the squad?  No, no and no.  On second thought, Jester was being selective and considerate of her emotions.  Boredom was far better than the horrors of war or the slavery of Kamino and the Jedi.

“It should be almost ready,” Jaiya said as she stood.  “I’ll check the kitchen and bring out something to drink.”  She smiled at Slick.  “It isn’t much, of course, but I can’t think of better company to share it with.”

Slick could; his love Maruli.

Gelva pulled at Twenty-three to dance, but he shook his head and sat stiffly on one of the benches as he gestured towards the foursome already dancing.  “I’ll just watch.”

She danced and it seemed as if her entire dance was focused toward Twenty-three.  After the one song ended, Norya and Ensa pulled Punch and Sketch to a bench and the musicians launched into a song that was far faster and more intricate than the one for pair dancing.  The women began clapping in tune and Gelva twirled on her toes, the long scarf draped over her arms unfurling like wings.  Her dance reminded Slick of a bird’s flight, high and distant.  Freedom and laughter; not slaves to the Jedi in a war they had no reason to fight.

Finishing, Gelva bowed to the musicians, then to the applauding audience.  Even Slick and Jaiya, at the kitchen door, joined because it had been a masterful performance.  Breathing hard, Gelva went to sit with Twenty-three.  The music slowed and softened enough for conversation.  

Jaiya ducked back into the kitchen and came out with a tray of small glasses.  Laughing and following in Jaiya’s wake as she brought the tray around, was Gus carrying a veritable feast of a golden-roast nuna on a much larger tray.

“Is that a mutant giant nuna?”  Jester’s mouth was agape at its size.  Then, remembering he was in a woman’s company, he closed it.  But not for long.  “That’s the largest nuna I’ve ever seen.”

“It took two of us to put it in the oven,” Bayla told him as she took two glasses from Jaiya and handed one to Jester.

Jester grinned.  “Next time, let me know and I’ll come over to help.”

“I’ll arm wrestle you for the privilege,” replied Punch, taking two glasses and passing the second to Ensa with a smile.  “I’ve never even see a live nuna.”

Sketch was offering his hand to Sorya.  “If we’re first at the table, do we get first dibs?”  He grinned as he and Sorya each took a glass from Jaiya.  “Everyone else is so overcome with shock…”  Sorya laughed and, with Sketch, was the first to sit at the table.  

“That’s not a live nuna, Punch,” remarked Slick.

“As if any of us troopers have seen something more ‘live’ than pre-formed nuna steak,” Punch retorted back.

Slick laughed.  “There is that.”  He turned to pulled out the chair for Jaiya as Gus set the large roast carcass in the empty spot.  “But this will be a nuna to measure all others by.”

“He brought two, so the smaller one was prepared earlier.  Tonight, for the first time in what seems ages, the children will sleep with full bellies.”  Jaiya replied as she set bowls of stewed vegetables and roast grains flavored with nut slivers and dried fruit bits around the table already laden with bread and cheeses.  Then she took a deep breath and smiled as she took her place.

There was nothing exotic but Slick was dazzled by the array and sent a silent ‘thanks’ to Ventress.

After a moment’s pause for silence, Jaiya lifted her glass followed by the other women.  Slick and the squad copying their actions.

“To absent friends,” said Jaiya, “and lost loved ones.”  There were tears in her eyes and the other women gently bowed their heads.  It was obvious that everyone had lost someone in this war.  He’d lost his Kamino squad and Maruli.  His current squad had lost a vod their first day.  

Jester started.   _Ni su'cuyi gar…_

Followed by Punch and Sketch. _...kyr'adyc, ni partayli…_

Gus and Twenty-three adding softly.  ... _gar darasuum._

Slick wished he could join them.  He often spoke remembrance for Maruli and his vode from Kamino.  But privately.  He never said remembrance in front of the troopers.  He had even told them he didn’t because the dead were incompetent and undeserving of living even in memory.  So, Slick merely closed his eyes for a moment; remembering them as he last seen them; his love, Maruli gazing at him with lovelight in her eyes.  And his squad - Teknik, Ven, Knife, Roan, and Eighteen preparing for battle.

He opened his eyes as Jaiya raised her glass slightly then brought it to her lips.  Slick sipped from his, and the others followed.

Slick measured the drink.  It was far more potent than whatever was served at the makeshift bar and stung as he swallowed.  Jester and Punch coughed from its strength as they drank.  The small glasses held enough alcohol to warm them but not sufficient for drunkenness and there were larger glasses holding some other drink for dinner.  

“Will you do the honors?”  Jaiya extended the knife to Slick.

There was a gentle warmth in Slick as he sliced and served the nuna.  

It almost felt like a… family.

* * * * * * * * * *

They were all relaxed now, satiated and full of delicious food for their bodies.  Laughter and smiles lit up the table as much as the candlelight for their spirits.  Even Laine, sitting between Gus and Slick, was giving small smiles of enjoyment.  She nudged Gus in the arm and they rose to begin taking the empty platters back to the kitchen.

Slick gave Gelva a tiny nod even as Jester, seeing that nod, twisted his eyebrows in curiosity and opened his lips slightly as if to ask.

Was he getting lax, to let Jester see that it was his command Gelva carried out, or was it somehow part of the plan to break them?  Did he _want_ to be caught?  Slick wasn’t sure.

Twenty-three leaned forward, his face slowly nearing Gelva’s neck where several curls clung to her dance-sweated skin leading towards the opening of her neckline and the curve of her breasts.  His face gently touched her hair and he closed his eyes as he inhaled.  A lock of her hair moved from his breath.

Slick saw her hand on his thigh; not that anything could happen in armor, but simply the placement said she liked him.  At the very least.  

Twenty-three raised his hand to move the drape of her hair with his fingers to place a kiss on her flushed cheek.  He swallowed and slowly, deliberately, set the curl behind her ear.  Then he set his lips to her cheek.

Gelva screamed and jumped back, knocking over her seat.  

Two of the musicians missed both beat and note in their surprise.

“Gelva…” snapped Jaiya in shock.

And, Twenty-three froze.

Everyone froze; the musicians, Jaiya, Jester, everyone.  Even Gus and Laine peering from the kitchen; Laine with her eyes closed and her lips grimaced in remembered or sympathetic pain.

“Don’t touch me with your scars,” Gelva shouted, her face contorted in rage.  Her hand reached as if to slap him but jerked back before touching him as if he was contaminated.  “Scars!  Don’t ever touch me.”

She turned, breathing hard, and ran up the stairs.

After what seemed an eternity of staring at her then the bare stairs, Twenty-three looked at Slick, as if knowing he had planned the entire thing.  Twenty-three’s face was still frozen in shock and shame.  Jerkily, he stood, grabbed his gauntlets and moved to the door.  Slamming on his helmet he moved out into the darkness.

Slick heard the roar of the speeder bike’s engine then it faded quickly as Twenty-three left them behind.

Slick almost smiled; no matter how fast he traveled, Twenty-three would never be able to outrun that experience. 


	16. Reinforcements

Slick’s mind didn’t seem to stray often from the feast that night at the women’s house.  How it had seemed warm and friendly… until Gelva played her part as instructed so perfectly.  Though she hadn’t spoken to him since then and Slick realized he had somehow broken her as well as Twenty-three.

Jaiya has asked him what happened and Slick had turned to her with a lie on his lips then shook his head.  “Don’t ask, Jaiya.  Don’t blame Gelva but this is not your concern.”  Her face had twisted and she’d given him a stiff little nod.  But she hadn’t spoken to him since then either though she hadn’t forbidden him to come around.

Slick hadn’t seen Twenty-three since he’s stiffly walked from the women’s house, but his work was always done and Slick often found a droid’s metal digit - usually an SBD - tossed on his bunk each time he entered his alcove in the barracks though the others denied seeing Twenty-three.  He usually tossed the small metal piece back onto the trooper’s bunk and it would be gone the next time he came into the barracks.

Often, Jester did Twenty-three’s work, saying, “he and I traded duty”.  He didn’t stutter as often but that was only because he had stopped almost all conversation.  His words were only information and reports.  Often he stared at Slick with no expressions on his face and Slick could only guess at his thoughts.  Jester was close to breaking also, his blank stares at Slick told him that.

Slick allowed Punch to catch him in the shower with the drawing he had forced Sketch to do.  Sexually explicit and submission.  With a bite-mark on his shoulder. It was a beautiful drawing and Punch had roared out in rage, grabbed the flimsi from Slick’s hand and rushed away to confront Sketch.  Slick only finished his shower, chuckling until they turned to sobs.  “Maruli,” he whispered into the towel, “what am I doing?”  When he walked out of the shower he felt better, once again sure of what he was doing.

It had the desired effect of separating the two brothers, but Slick assigned them together now.  Sketch’s presence was an irritating reminder of who exactly had drawn that picture.  Punch was all righteous indignation while Sketch was apologetically guilty.  Though Slick didn’t think Punch would have objected if it had been only Sketch to see it.

Slick took little pleasure in the divide between the two, simply waiting and hoping they would break soon.   For him, time was running out.  He was getting arrogant.  Sloppy.  Letting Jester see him directing Gelva and even contacting Ventress occasionally from the barracks console.  He told himself that everything would be finished before anyone discovered what he was doing.

Only Gus was in a normal mood, physically satiated from the feast and assigned, for the most part, to Lieutenant Grey in the command center.  He and Slick were the only ones who went to the women’s house now though Slick often saw evidence that the squad watched over the women.  That morning he and Gus had broken fast with the last of the leftover nuna though Laine had quietly told them the carcass would be boiled for broth with some of the vegetable peelings.  She had lowered her head but Slick could see the edge of her smile.

“It will be the tastiest part of ration and moss stew,” she quipped.

Gus had laughed and Slick had grinned to see Laine so much better though he felt anger at the Jedi when they departed for their rounds and Laine had pressed a tender kiss against Gus’s blushing cheek.  There was no more future for Gus and Laine than there had been for him and Maruli.

“Sergeant.”  It was Jester’s voice breaking into his reverie.  “Companies are incoming.  Grey directs all forces to cover the landing field.  Blockade is b...broken.  The new generals and troopers will be landing with s… supplies.”

“Let’s go, Gus.  Squad report.”  There were the pings of his troopers superimposed over the map image.  Punch and Sketch nearest the landing field and Jester off-duty in the barracks quickly armoring up.  There was no evidence of Twenty-three anywhere on his overlay screen and Slick was momentarily irritated.  

“Sergeants,” it came from the Command Center and Slick pinged acknowledgement to Lieutenant Grey along with Sergeant-medic Ferritin and Sergeant Barlex.  The other sergeants pinged in after the three seniors.  Slick ran through the communicator sub-relays for Twenty-three’s position as he listened to Lieutenant Grey’s orders.  

Nothing.

“Support and troops incoming.  All forces to cover the landing field.  ETA,” Grey paused as if reading a message then blew out a breath.  “As soon as the first ship arrives and it’s en route.”

There was a sudden flurry of images coming into Slick’s helmet; images of armed droids and CIS forces gathering.  In some of the images Slick could make out the landing field in the distance.  Other images covered the refugee camp and Slick recognized Twenty-three’s trooper designation in the lower corner.

“Grey,” Slick called.  “One of my squad has recon on recent CIS activity.  Prepare for image downloads.”  He set aside his anger, understanding that having something Slick did not was Twenty-three’s way of retaliation.   _ I’m better than you _ , it seemed to say.  But, right now, there was no time for anything but the oncoming battle.

“Find your position, Twenty-three,” Slick called throughout the squad.  “All of you, get a good position, cover each other.”  

“His name is Chopper,” supplied Sketch as the bright little dots that were him and Punch moved around the landing field picking their positions.

Slick grunted, seeing a squad of droids between them and their route.  He flicked on the large blaster and slid the BARC to one side, just under the eaves of a building barely standing.  Gus took the other side, firing into the mass of spindly figures and Slick cleaned up. 

“Grey,” Slick spoke to command, privately as he and Gus raced towards the landing field.  “The refugees won’t hold.  They’ll swarm the supply ships as soon as they realize there’s food on them.”

“So undisciplined?  Even in a firefight?”  Grey’s voice was soft, then strengthened.  “You’re right, Slick.  Fek, I would feel like swarming myself.”  The command went out from Grey to all the troopers.

“When the supply ships land, cover them not just from the Seps.  The refugees will swarm.”

By the time Slick and Gus arrived at the landing field, the first LAAT had dropped a load of troopers and was uplifting to make way for the next ship.  Another LAAT was hovering over the broken pavement of the torn-up section while troopers and - Slick’s lips slipped into a snarl of hate - a Jedi lept from the opening.

“Come on, men,” the Jedi yelled and waved his glowing light saber towards where Barlex had gathered several squads and was holding back the droids at the field’s edge; but only barely.  “We need to push them back.  Rex, take the outside.”

There was another Jedi among some of the new troopers, his saber flashed and the brown of his cloak contrasted with the white of the troopers, the silver of droids and the crystal of broken buildings.  Slick ignored them.  They were Jedi, as much the enemy of all clones as any battle-droid.

“Gus,” Slick commanded, letting his voice filter to Lieutenant Gray in case he wanted to change the squad’s orders. “We’ll stay on the BARCs and prevent further droid reinforcements.  They aren’t in good position for an all-out.  This is just an attempt to ruin our day and create confusion.  Punch, Sketch, Jester, attach to the nearest command clone and provide assistance as liaison between them and Grey.”  He ignored Twenty-three knowing from the vid downloads that he was in a very good position for sniping.

“Any more of those vids,” cut in Grey, “send direct to me.  To the other commanders as soon as companies’ electronics merge.”

There was a pause, then Twenty-three’s… Chopper’s voice hoarsely spoke.  “Yes, sir.  On it.”


	17. From All Sides

It wasn’t an all out battle, just the CIS welcome for the new company.  Slick thought it was good practice for the shinies just landing though he could tell by the way they moved that most of the blue-marked 501st troopers were experienced in battle.  It was the troopers with their armor plates edged in yellow, that were new from Kamino.  He was about to send out the information to the other sergeants, when Barlex announced it over communications.

“Commander Cody’s men, yellow-marked, are all Kamino direct.”

“Support ship and crew landings,” announced Commander Cody to the entire force as he and his contingent pushed droids back from the eastern edge of the landing field.  Though rookie, the company moved smoothly and followed orders well.  There was a Jedi with him, his light saber a beacon of brilliance.

Behind his helmet, Slick sneered as he wondered how quickly this Jedi would go haring off randomly into the battlefield leaving behind confused troopers.  At least they had a commander to follow.

He turned his anger back to the droids, taking out several more with the BARC’s large blaster.  The speeder’s engine was sparking and smoking, it wouldn’t last much longer, and Slick decided to ram the BARC into the dense formation of droids moving into position towards the field where the 501st was hunkered in a protective shield for the LAATs and disembarking troopers.

“Gus,” Slick called through the squad link.  “Are you good to pick me up?”

“Bike to bike?  I’ll be to your right.  You’re smokin’ bad in the back.”

“No better in front,” Slick retorted as he shoved his last explosive into the carryall near the controls of the BARC and gunned the engine.  After a sputter and a near-stall, the speeder jerked forward.  Once in a direct, destructive path, Slick lightened his grip as he pulled his feet up to the seat, prepared to push off, and glanced around for Gus.  He’d go, even if it meant a painful landing, but Gus was coming into line.  He even had the stretcher unrolling into place to give Slick more landing room.  Slick grinned and thrust against the saddle, leaping towards Gus.

As Slick pushed off the seat of his BARC, a red blaster bolt hit the directional vane of Gus’s speeder.

“Kriff.”  

Slick wasn’t sure if that dark mutter had been him or Gus.

Gus’s speeder jigged, dipping momentarily then he had it under control again but they both knew Slick was going to hit crystal.  Hard.  Then skid for quite a while.

And, it was going to hurt.  A lot.  If it didn’t kill him.

Gus’s hand was out as he leaned the BARC towards Slick and Slick was stretching, both clones trying to make up the distance by reach, but they were hopelessly too far.

Behind him he could heard the cacophony of the speeder bike crashing into the droids.

Then Slick felt a push, a little extra energy, a just-enough tiny... something.  Enough that he landed on the stretcher of Gus’s speeder rather that spattered on the hard Christophsis surface.

As Gus wheeled his BARC away from the droids, the explosion that Slick had set detonated sending BARC and clanker debris into the air and clattering off their armor.

“Good work, sergeant.”  It came from CC-2224 and Slick realized that little push had come from the Jedi general next to him.  “Can you get to and guard the supply drop without injuring the refugees?  Grey says they might attack simply in hunger.”

“Yes sir.”  Slick slid behind Gus.

Gus’s BARC didn’t last the short distance to where the supply ships were unloading and, after repeating Slick’s trick - abet at a speed they could survive, they finished the distance on foot.  Already, some of the refugees had rushed the crates being unloaded, hindering the troopers as they moved towards battle.  Senator Prince Bail Organa and two of his men had imposed themselves between the supplies and the gathering crowd.

“Please allow the unloading,”  Bail cried out.  “Move back.  Move away from the battle.  There’s plenty for everyone.”

The refugees weren’t listening.  “You’re going to keep it all,” some shouted.

“You aren’t starving,” shouted one woman, one that Slick knew was a ‘community leader’.  

“We’ve been eating no more than you,” shouted one of Bail’s men, but Bail had been off-planet on a diplomatic mission.  He’d gotten supplies, but neither he nor his men had the atrophy associated with famine.

“Everyone know that you and the troopers get extra rations.  This is for us!”  At that cry, most of the crowd surged forward and Slick knew they wouldn’t last more than a few seconds.  He stepped forward and rammed his blaster directly into the face of the woman.

“Gus,” ordered Slick in audible mode.  “Remove your helmet.”

“Sir?”  Gus was beside Slick, his blaster parallel and aimed towards the crowd;  with his free hand, he had pushed the Senator Prince behind him.  The senator’s men were at Gus’s side.  

“Now!”  Slick’s voice was angry, though not at Gus.  How dare these… citizens, with far more rights than any of the clones could ever dream of, complain that they’d been unfairly treated.  They had no idea.  Slick’s finger tightened slightly, the woman closer to death than she would ever know.  They had no idea.

Gus swallowed hard as he slowly tilted his head and, single-handedly, pulled off his helmet.  His face was thin, the cheekbones pronounced over the hollows of his face.  His eyes seemed unnaturally large in his face, his head seemed unduly large on his thin neck.

“We have given our shares to you civilians,” Slick shouted so he could be heard though his finger relaxed on the trigger.  “You are hungry, _we_ are starving.  There is nothing… nothing… absolutely nothing that we have not given for you.  Not shelter.  Not food.  Not even our lives.”

Slick trembled in anger and he took a step back, cautiously lowering the blaster.  The crowd had halted, though Slick knew it was because they were cowards, _hut’uun_ , too afraid to fast the military blasters.

“Let the troopers do their job.  Move back to the center and food will be distributed as quickly as possible.”  Senator Prince Organa moved forward, gesturing with his arms, his men with him.  He took one backward glance at the two troopers and nodded his respect.

Ashamed, Gus pulled back on his helmet.

It wasn’t right, what he had done to Gus just now.

Slick could only hope that, somehow, it led to Gus’s freedom.  But, he was beginning to doubt it.

“Com’on, Gus.  Let’s back up the loaders.”

Without a word, Gus followed his lead.

* * * * * * * * * *

 

There weren’t as many dead as Slick would have thought.  Both he and Gus had taken blaster wounds as the clankers attacked the supply ships; Punch and Jester has also been injured, but none of the squad were wounded enough to even be removed from the battlefield.  

There weren’t a lot dead because the defense of the landing field had been well planned and led, because Grey had been planning and refining his plans with every sergeant since the blockade had begun.  Because every trooper knew his position and task, because every trooper trusted Grey to keep them alive.  

Slick looked down into Lieutenant Grey’s thin face.  He looked asleep.  Peaceful.  Relaxed.  The constant indentation of worry between his eyebrows was gone and there was a small, faint upturn of a smile on his pale lips.

One of the new medics, his armor trimmed in blue, reached and gently touched his fingers to close Grey’s amber eyes.  

Commander Cody was there, staring mournfully at the lieutenant who’d had to do a commander’s job.  General Kenobi stood beside him.

“If you wish, Sergeant, you and your squad may take the time to mourn Lieutenant Grey,” General Kenobi offered.  “I understand he was a good trooper and respected by all his brothers.”

“Mourn?”  Slick raised an eyebrow in curiosity then turned his stony face back to Grey’s corpse.  “Mourning is for civilians, General Kenobi, not clone units.”  It was something similar to what the prior general had told him when he wanted to mourn his squad.

The new general took a step back as if hit in the face.  

Slick felt a small pang of regret but ignored it as he turned away from where Grey lay; his eyes watering from the dust and tibanna stench of the battlefield.


	18. Individuality

“Sergeant Slick,” remarked General Kenobi with a nod as he exited Commander Cody’s office and headed in the direction of Senator Prince Organa’s office.

“General Kenobi.”  Slick came to attention and saluted the general.

“No need for that here.”  The Jedi seemed almost embarrassed. 

Slick held the salute.  “My previous Jedi General held to the protocol.”

“I’ve already spoken with Commander Cody and he will send out the information that saluting me and General Skywalker is unnecessary.”

“Until he does, General Kenobi, it is required of all clones to salute generals.”  He paused.  “Even Jedi generals who find it uncomfortable.”

General Kenobi sighed as he returned the salute although he seemed amused.

Slick slipped into parade rest then paused as the general turned.  “A moment, General, if I might?”

“Of course.”  Kenobi turned back to face Slick, his body balanced.  “How may I be of assistance, Sergeant Slick?”

Already he had identified Slick as an individual.  Slick wondered if was because the general had used the Force to save his life or if he planned on identifying all his sergeants by name rather than designation.  

“I’d like to thank you for saving my life.  I appreciate it,” Slick dared to smile slightly.  “It’s the only one I have.”

“You’re welcome.  It is my duty to provide help when I can.”

“Thank you, General.  Perhaps you should have Commander Cody tell the company that.  Otherwise, the clonetroopers might react badly when you use the Force on them.”

The General nodded somberly.  “I will do that.”  Then he paused, slightly turning down the corridor before facing Slick again.

“I have read my predecessor’s notes and I believe you were in the right.”  He shook his head.  “I certainly wouldn’t have reprimanded you for giving advice to inexperienced troopers.”

“I was reprimanded for telling them to not follow him.”  Slick bit off the final word.  “Sir.” 

“I think you were telling them they shouldn’t try to keep up with a Jedi.”

Slick was silent as he tilted his head then gave a nod.  

“They can’t, not when a Jedi is using the Force, and they shouldn’t try.  As I said, you were right.  I’ll make sure Commander Cody and Captain Rex relay that information to the troops as well.”

Slick stared as the general strode down the hall.  It felt like they’d been sparring then… an offer of what?  Not friendship but certainly something.

Slick didn’t know what to make of it.

* * * * * * * * * *

“It’s good to see this Jedi general takes care of his tools,” Slick remarked as the interview was coming to an end.

Cody’s lips tightened and his brows drew down in thought.  “I think he actually cares for the clones under his command.”

“Doubtful, sir.  In my experience.”

Cody smiled.  “You’ll get the opportunity to expand on your experience, then.  I’d like you to stay with the 212th but it’s your choice.”

Slick nodded.  “I’d like that, Commander Cody.  A choice.”  

It wasn’t as if any other Jedi would be much different and this one was, at least, human.  Jedi General Kenobi seemed to give Commander Cody a good portion of the command and, if he followed his precious Force all over the battlefield in spite of his words, Cody wouldn’t.  “I’ll stay, sir.  You’ve got a good reputation.”    

Their interview done, Cody pulled out some flimsis.  “I found these in Grey’s office front and center on his desk.  I think they’re good plans, though I’m not a slicer and can’t follow the details.  Grey’s notes indicate he was going to implement them as soon as the company was back to strength.”

Slick saw the plans - obtained from Ventress and modified several times before he had presented them to Grey just a few days ago.  Commander Cody pushed them towards Slick.

“Can you explain them?”  Cody leaned slightly back in the chair, relaxing.

Perhaps the commander really did need the intricate electronic and slicer details explain in laymen’s terms.  But more likely it was a test; the commander trying to determine how well Slick understood what he was proposing.

“Of course, sir.”  He set his helmet on the desk and stepped to the side of the desk so both of them could see the diagrams.  “The buildings on Christophsis, with only a few minor exceptions, are piezoelectric crystals.  Piezoelectric crystals produce electricity when a mechanical force, such as vibration or pressure is applied.  This is how Christophsis produces its power.  This effect is partially reversible; subject to an electric field or mechanical pressure, the crystals can produce vibration.  With me so far, sir?”

Cody nodded, leaning forward. “Or vibration through sound.”

Slick hide most of his grin; with those words Cody proved he understood the plan and this was only a test.  

“Exactly, sir.  With the proper direction and application of vibration or electricity, which can be overseen on computer, the entire city of Christophsis can produce a giant electro-magnetic pulse.  And, what is a droid popper but an electro-magnetic force?”  Slick held his hands out in question and Commander Cody smiled, nodded.

“This giant droid popper can affect every electrical system within a given area.”  Slick circled his finger around a large area on the boundary of eastside territory; where the CIS held dominance.  “This side of Christophsis City is where most of the fighting has occurred for some time.  If we set up a command console in these two buildings,”  His finger punched two points on the map.  “Then we can direct and coordination the application of external energy, use the buildings storage cell and, at our discretion, activate the piezo-energy of the crystals.”

“How soon can we implement them?”

“Perhaps a day.” replied Slick.  He’d need to get in touch with Ventress to let her know.  “It’s simply checking that the clankers haven’t changed their routines too much.”

“I meant how long will it take to prep the buildings with circuitry and oscillators?”

Slick shrugged.  “My squad has been prepping the buildings on the entire line between CIS and Republic forces for about fifteen days.  Even if this plan,” he stabbed the flimsis on the desk with a finger, “wasn’t approved.  The initial setup is the same for vibration as it is for explosives.”

“Why didn’t you simply set off explosives?”

Slick paused, remembering Maruli’s cold, clayful corpse in his arms and the shattering of the crystal tower.  When he spoke, his voice was low and sad.  “The Senator Prince thought there would be too many civilian casualties.  Senior command - Grey, Barlex, Ferritin, and I agreed.”  He ducked his head to stare at the metal flooring then looked back up into Commander Cody’s eyes.  “So, we prepared it as a final contingency.  If the CIS overran us.”

“You’re sure this large a vibration and electromagnetic pulse won’t injure civilians.”

“Not unless they directly touch a live electric charge and Christophsians are aware of the piezoelectric attributes of their city.”  Slick shook his head.  “Personally, I don’t believe there are any ‘civilians’ in this area but even with crystal buildings this large, the vibrations will barely be noticeable until the charge is built up on the facets and ready to take out the clankers and armaments.”

Commander Cody tapped his helmet, sitting on his desk.  “And, all of our electronics as well.”

“Unlike droids, sir, we can manage without electronics.”

Cody smiled at Slick.  “Set it up, sergeant.  You and your squad double-check at least 50% of the setups today, make sure they’re active and make your report this evening.”

Slick grabbed his bucket, stepped back and saluted the commander.  “Yes, sir.”  

*** * * * * * * * * ***

The barracks was empty though, once again, there was an SBD digit on his bunk.  For a moment, Slick stared at this evidence of Twenty-three’s… no, Chopper’s break.  

For just that moment as he stared at the charred metal, Sergeant Slick thought of letting Commander Cody know that the clankers had discovered evidence of this plan.  He thought of telling Jedi General Kenobi, who already saw him as an individual, that the droids had changed their routines and it wouldn’t work.

Then he tossed the droid finger on the bunk and sat at the console, preparing to let Ventress know.

_ I think I want them to find out _ , he thought to himself as he composed the message.   _ Maybe I want them to stop me. _


	19. Break

“Let’s take a break before we report, Gus.”  Slick gestured to a small, grassy hill tucked between the convergence of several buildings.  

“That sounds good, sergeant.”  Gus gave a quick nod as they turned their speeders.  In a good mood, he grinned; they had stopped by the women’s house and, though they hadn’t gotten off the BARCs, he’d talked with Laine for a few minutes, receiving another kiss and a small package as they had departed.  “I’m ready for a ration break.”

As they reached the top of a small bump in the landscape, Gus visually scanned the area as Slick set the bikes in lockdown then slowly pulled off his helmet.

His face was still thinner than the rest of the squad, but between the newly arrived rations and visiting the women’s house, he was fleshing out quickly and had lost the cadaverous look.  Muscle was quickly growing into the hollows formed by starvation.

“All clear, sergeant.”

“Then, by all means, let’s see what Laine provided you for lunch.”

“It’s for both of us.  I’m sure.”

Slick laughed as he gazed around, keeping alert for any clankers.

“I don’t think so, Gus.  Otherwise,  _ I _ would have gotten a kiss also.”  Slick pulled out two ration bars.

Gus ducked his head and blushed, still grinning, as he unwrapped the package.  Gus’s treat turned out to be several sweet biscuits and a fresh muja fruit which he shared with Slick.  Though he only ate half of one biscuit, handing the other half to Slick and saving the other two for later.

Or, more likely, to split with the other squad members.  Slick, frowned slightly and stood, stretching his shoulders.  “There’s a Sabaac game tonight, Gus.  We’ll be going.”

“No.  Sir.” Gus spoke in a quiet whisper even though there was no one near.  His fingers caressed the small package that Laine had given him as he tucked it into a belt pouch.  “I don’t want to go gambling again.”  He lightly touched his shoulder where he’d been twice-bitten.

“That sounds like you’re requesting a favor, Gus.”  Slick turned and leaned down to pick up his helmet.  His heart thrilled to hear Gus’s rejection, but he maintained his expression.

There was an eternity of stillness before Gus nodded.  “Yes, sir.  I’m asking a favor.  Please.”

One side of Slick’s mouth tilted up in an arrogant smile.  “You _do_ remember the price of a favor?”

Pale, Gus nodded.  “Better you than a civilian, Sergeant Slick.  Please.  Don’t invite me to Sabaac with the civilians again.”

For a moment, Slick wondered just how much he’d been insulted but he put his hand on Gus’ shoulder where he had twice left teeth marks.  His thumb reached and pulled down the collar of the bodysuit, touching the scar and exposing the edge of it to sunlight. 

Gus hardened his body, but he still flinched as Slick’s thumb touch his skin.

_ Not shame _ , Slick thought to himself.   _ Be angry, Gus.  Rage for your freedom.  Defend yourself from me. _

But Gus stayed still, letting Slick gently stroke the old scar he’d put there as well as the ragged, healing bite mark he had added two nights previous.  There was another mark, smaller and newly healed on his inner thigh, from the woman who’d won him in a round of Sabaac the last time he and Slick had gone.

“I suppose, for the price of a favor, Gus.”  Slick withdrew his thumb.  He’d make the favor small, maybe send Gus down to the women’s house on some errand.  

If he couldn’t break Gus, and he had to admit that he had failed at that, then perhaps loving Laine would do for Gus what Maruli had done for him.

Gus, his shoulders dropped in defeat, stared at the ground and nodded.  “Thank…”

There was a noise and both clones glanced to see one of the 501st medics observing them; the one who had gently closed Lieutenant Grey’s sightless eyes.  His body was frozen with shock.

For a moment, Slick stared at the newcomer, his expression unchanging as he wondered how and if he could save the situation.  Before he could make any decision, he heard a teeth-aching whine and experience kicked in over all other consideration.

“Incoming!”  He and Gus yelled at the same time, slamming their helmets on and diving for cover at the base of the buildings.  The 501ster, newer to Christophsis, did the same at their warning, curling into a ball and throwing his arms over his helmet as he ducked behind the remains of the crystal building he’d come around.

It was ear-shattering close and suddenly silent.  Slick set all the alerts and communications in his helmet for visual only, knowing he’d have to reset the overwhelmed baffles and clear the blood from the earpieces when he was off-duty.  

_ “Gus, are you ok?” _

_ “Deaf, sir.  Nothing else more than bruises.  You?” _

The letters tracked over his viewscreen as Slick looked towards the sky for more missiles; an instinctive reaction.  

_ “Same,”  _ he replied though he couldn’t hear his own voice and only felt a slight vibration against his cheekbones and in his throat. __ His helmet located further missiles as their targeting tightened towards the clone barracks rather than the refugee camp.

_ “Sir, the 501st medic…” _

Slick looked towards where he’d last seen the blue-trimmed trooper.  He lay limp, blood already pooling on the crystal ground and seaming the facets in red.

“ _ Med kit _ ,” Slick yelled, though he still didn’t hear himself.  He pulled his own kit from his side and reached up to catch the one Gus tossed him as he raced down the small grassy hill to the side of the fallen trooper.

“ _ I’ll get the BARC set up for transport _ .”  Gus’ words streamed across his vision, surrealistically getting lost in the red of blood on the ground.

Then Gus was at his side, the speeder ready, waiting for further orders or information.  Gus didn’t ask useless questions and Slick was glad for that.  It was taking all his concentration to pull out the thumb-wide, plate-size cleavage of crystal from cracked armor and broken skin, pack the big slice with all the blood augment from both their kits, and tape the wound shut enough to move the trooper.  Then Gus silently helped lift the medic’s body to the stretcher.  Slick jerked himself onto the back of Gus’ speeder bike, his concentration and a transfusion tube connecting him to the 501ster.

“ _ Medic!  Ferritin! _ ”  Though he screamed as if in the midst of battle, there was no noise.  Not from his voice and not from the speeder bike streaming through the wreckage of what had once been a brilliant crystal city.  There was no noise, though he could see puffs of smoke, flashes of explosives and the harried movement of refugees and troopers in the distance.

_ “Here.” _  The word flashed through his visuals, followed by Ferritin’s designation and location at base medical.

“ _ Wounded transferring back to medical.  Take a look. _ ”  Slick’s visuals flickered and there was a series of senths that must have been a low hiss from Ferritin as he saw through Slick’s helmet.

_ “Not good, Slick.  Is that a transfusion tube?” _

“ _ Yes.  Gus has us… _ ”

“ _ I’ve got you located.  South side entrance, I’ll have everything ready _ .”

* * * * * * * * * *

Slick felt exhausted as he watched Ferritin and Mito speed the 501st medic into the surgery.  Already, an empty bacta-tank slowly floated bubbles in preparation.  

Ferritin jerked the transfusion tube from Slick’s arm and jabbed it into the bottle of electrolyte-lactate as he and Mito simply loaded the bike stretcher onto the gurney and sped into surgery with no regard for sterile procedure.  

Slick rubbed his hand over the inside of his inner arm where there was space between the cannons and couter then drew it back to see a thin stream of dark liquid on the fingertips of his glove.

“ _ Gus _ ,” he said, still hearing only silence.  “ _ I think… _ ”

He didn’t finish the thought.

Slick regained consciousness mid-fall, Gus’ arms curling around him and pulling him over to one of the cots.  He looked around for a solution bulb, read and discarded a few neatly back to their shelves then brought one to Slick.

He helped Slick remove his helmet and set it so he could see the inner visuals.  As Slick wearily bit the top off the solution bulb and sucked down the fluid, Gus removed his vambrace and rolled up the sleeve to tuck a small bandage into the curve of his elbow and fold his arm against his chest.  He gently turned Slick’s head in inspection then reached for gauze to wipe away the slight amount of blood from both sides of his face.  His running commentary scrolled through Slick’s helmet.

_ “Here’s energy fluid to restore your electrolyte balance.    You gave too much blood to the 501st medic _ . _  Your ears have slight bleeding from the blast concussion, Slick, but it doesn’t look too bad. _ ”  

Gus smiled up into his face and Slick broke.

It wasn’t worth it, what he was doing to his squad.  They were good troopers.  He could turn them into the best squad the GAR would ever see.  He could let command know about Ventress and the Separatists’ plans.  He could undo the armory - it wouldn’t take any time at all.  He’d confess it all to Lieutenant Grey.  He’d ask that Twenty-three take over the squad as sergeant; there was excellent potential in him.

“ _ Gus, I need to tell you…” _

Slick looked up as Gus rose to search for the blood substitute and almost ran into two clones; 501st troopers from the blue-trimmed armor of one, the other in off-duty fatigues.  Slick recognized the captain from the 501st even as Gus saluted.  

_ Captain Rex _ , Slick remembered from meeting him in battle upon their arrived.  He’d thought Rex a good captain during battle and now he had proved it again, caring for his men.

Slick nodded, Twenty-three would be that kind of sergeant.  He’d talk to Grey after evening report. 

“ _ Where’s Kix _ ,” Rex demanded after taking in their condition with a sweep of his eyes even as the other trooper - probably his second in command - moved toward the medical cabinet and pulled a few bottles and some tubing.

Gus gestured toward the surgery.  “ _ In there, sir.  He was alive when we got here, but I don’t know… _ ”  He looked down at the floor and gave a small shake of his head.  “ _ It looked fatally bad. _ ”

_ They’re in there so he’s not dead. _ That comment came from the other trooper who had painlessly - a medic, decided Slick - inserted the needle into Slick’s arm, setting up a transfusion and quickly checked both his ears.  He stood, turning to Gus.  “ _ After that bag is finished, set up one more.  Sodium irrigation for the ears.  Both of you. _ ”  He turned to Captain Rex.  “ _ I’m going to see if Ferritin needs another pair of hands because as long as they’re working on Kix, there’s hope _ .”

Captain Rex gave a stiff nod.  “ _ Do it, Coric _ .”  He turned back to Slick and Gus as Coric pulled on a surgical suit and entered the sterilizing chamber at the entry of surgery.

When Coric did not reappear bearing bad news after a few moments, Rex gave a sigh and sat on a bench near Slick’s cot.  He pulled on his helmet; probably giving orders to his troopers or receiving reports.  Then he pulled off his helmet and turned to the two wounded troopers.

“ _ Thank you _ .”

Slick remembered that Lieutenant Grey was dead and decided that pause, when he thought to tell Gus everything, was only momentary weakness due to blood loss.  

He only had to be strong for another day.

There wasn’t much remaining to do.  He had already taken all the money he’d won gambling to Jaiya for the women and their children.  He would finish setting up the redundancy explosives and rigging Senator Organa’s quarters with sleeper. 

Then he could fall apart.

Maybe he’d get lucky and die in battle tomorrow.


	20. A Different Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much of this chapter is verbatim from the episode of Star Wars: The Clone Wars titled "The Hidden Enemy".

It was a dream and Slick knew it, but it was a good dream and he smiled in his sleep.  It was a party at the women’s house and his first squad was there as well as Maruli and Lieutenant Gray, all relaxing and laughing around a feasting table.  His new squad was there also, but silent and in the background, armored up with their weapons in their hands.  Ven turned toward them and waved them to the empty seats.

“Come on, vode,” he laughed.  “There’s plenty to share.”

Hesitantly, Punch and Jester moved forward as if scouting hostile territory apparently not seeing the feast as their eyes searched for hidden enemies.  Chopper and Sketch followed, tensely alert in the shadows of the wall, deeces at the ready.  Gus was trying to armor up, but as he touched each piece, his armor disintegrated.  The others didn’t notice his dismay.  

Slick frowned to himself.  He’d done that to them.  He was about to move forward to assist Gus with the armor.  To apologize and, somehow, make it all right again.

Slick woke with a start as Gus touched his shoulder.  He was fully armored.

“It’s morning, sir.  Today’s the day.”

“The briefing?”  Slick blinked and felt dizzy as Gus handed him a mug.  He didn’t remember giving the briefing.

“General Kenobi requested the briefing, but the medics said you needed the rest so Commander Cody had the squad questioned.  We were ready for that, mostly Punch and Sketch.”  Gus straightened proudly.  “Commander Cody said it was an excellent briefing and General Kenobi complimented your foresight in the preparations.”

Slick nodded as he took absently took a drink then frowned at the unexpected taste.  “What the kriff is this?”

“Something from medical.  Ferritin said it would quickly clear your head and get rid of the muscle ache.”  Gus paused then nodded as Slick dutifully finished the drink.  “The 501st medic, he’s in bacta for the next couple of days but you saved his life.  Ferritin, Mito, Coric… all the medics agree that he wouldn’t have made it without the transfusion.”

“That’s good,” said Slick.  “We do need to take care of our vode.”  He handed back the now-empty mug, the fuzziness and stiffness already receding along with the dream.  

He gave a short laugh and stood, stretching.  “Especially the ones who take care of us.”  

Though Slick knew that 501st medic had seen more than Slick wanted him to see.  It didn’t matter.  If everything went according to plan, he’d be on Ventress’ ship leaving Christophsis in the evening and surreptitiously heading her clone prison camp from the inside a week later.  And, if it didn’t go according to plan…

Slick pushed that thought out of his mind.

“You and the squad go finish prepping up the operation for the commanders.  Where did they decide to set up?”

“Yes sir.  They’ve chosen the big double towers.  Where you suggested.”  Gus turned from Slick with a salute then strode from the barracks.  He walked proudly and Slick felt a moment’s regret for what would happen to Gus.

*****

Slick followed Cody as they entered the North Tower room, the outer entry guarded by Zerought. As they entered the inner room, he glanced to his left where Sketch and Punch were rigging a feedback amplifier.

“We’re back general,” Cody announced to Kenobi who was staring out the window.  At the observation post, Gus was staring out with his own binoculars.

“Good.”  General Kenobi lower the binoculars and nodded to the commander then turned back, looking out the window.  “The show is about to begin”.

“How’s that cannon boys”  Commander Cody asked three of Aranov’s squad as he strode past Kenobi checking on the troopers.

“We’ll have this one back in business in no time sir,” replied Deek, Aranov’s second, and Commander Cody nodded his approval.  Transporting the small cannon into the upper levels of the building had somehow damaged the targeting lasers.  

“The droids are advancing.”  The general’s voice was calm as he glanced back at Cody and Slick.

“I’m seeing a full battalion coming right on schedule.”  Gus’ anticipation rolled in his voice.  “Tanks! They brought tanks.”  His excitement rose; poppers worked on all electronics and a popper the size they had would do a lot of damage to the tanks as much as to the droids..  “A little closer,” he murmured.  Then he froze, his voice disbelieving.  “They’re splitting up.”

“What?”  Commander Cody was shocked, surprised but Slick wasn’t.  

“Something’s gone wrong. Prepare all troops for…”  General Kenobi was cut off by the distinctive sound of a CIS blaster in the outer hallway.  Slick pulled on his helmet.

The droids burst into the room firing.  Two of Aranov’s troopers were already down, dead from multiple blasts.  Punch and Sketch, slightly to the side of the door were unnoticed by the droids in their search for the primary target of the Jedi.  They pulled on their helmets, grabbed their weapons and dodged to group in with Kenobi and the troopers as the Jedi Force-pushed the oncoming droids, slamming them into the one behind.

“Abort the mission.” General Kenobi moved into the center of the room, deflecting some blasts as an endless number of droids advanced into the room.

At Kenobi’s orders, Chopper’s fingers were dancing over the keyboard, activating the self-destruct so the Seppies couldn’t rig it.  A lot of squads were in the crystal buildings and feedback overload could kill or severely injure them.  Slick moved to guard his back, Cody at his side.  It didn’t take Chopper an instant to begin firing back.  They kept toward the wall, moving towards the corridor.

“Our position’s been compromised.”

Slick glanced down a hallway to see Aranov take several blasts.  Ventress had sent a kriffload of clankers and Slick wondered if he was meant to be a casualty.

“Hold on.  What’s going on?”  That was General Skywalker in the second tower speaking with General Kenobi and, surprisingly it was all open channels that echoed through the troopers helmets.  

“We’re cut off.”  Kenobi was deflecting blasts at the same time, protecting his clones.  “The droids are onto us.”  

The troopers were crowding together around the general and commander, taking as much safety as they could in numbers but there were too many B1s surrounding them.  Deek attacked a lead B1 with the butt of his blaster but took several chest wounds. Slick took out the droid with a breath of regret, Chopper backing him up.  Deek had been a good, reliable trooper.

Skywalker was calling in Hawk for evacuation, again all open channels but it wouldn’t help them.

Then Slick heard him say ‘South Tower’.  South Tower?  They were in the South Tower and any evac would need to be from the rooftop.  The droids were pushing them against the walls.

“This way’s clear.”  It was General Skywalked followed by Captain Rex and three of his men.

“How did you get over here?”

“I improvised.”

Slick snorted back something like a laugh.  It seemed General Skywalker had an implicit understanding of war.

Although cornered, they had access to one of the rooftop lifts.  Kenobi sent some piece of machinery flying at the center of the droid advancement. It was the cannon and the delicate targeting laser wouldn’t survive that.  But neither did several droids.

General Kenobi, Commander Cody, Skywalker and Captain Rex - the command group – were the last into the lift.

On the rooftop the droids were constrained by how many could fit into the lifts and it was the Generals who advanced into the fray, ordering the troopers to cover them from the edge of the building.  The roar of their evac rolled from the sky and Hawk set the LAAT almost touching the crystal of the building.

Gus took a shot to the arm but Jester grabbed him, helping him make the jump into the LAAT.  Kenobi and Skywalker begin a strategic retreat as the lift opened with another squad of droids but crazy Chopper ran forward.  He kept low behind the condensers and tanks then leaping for the TK droid, grabbing it in a neckbreaker.  He gave a twist and the droid’s head came off in his arms.  

For a moment he seemed surprised, but General Kenobi was calling for everyone into the transport and the approaching B1s galvanized Chopper into action.  A graceful leap brought him onto the edge of the LAAT as it banked away from the building.  General Kenobi and Captain Rex pulled him further in by the shoulders.

“Good work, trooper,” Captain Rex told Chopper as he took the TK part into his hands. “Maybe this tactical droid will tell us how they knew our plan.”

Slick’s smirk was hid behind his helmet.  It was so obvious to him that Chopper wanted to keep some part of it.  Then he glanced back to the building as he had the regretful thought that things would have been very different if these two Jedi had been on Christophsis from the beginning.

On the rooftop, the body of the headless TK droid spun in a mindless spiral, firing its weapon. 


	21. Inevitability

Slick stared at the comm link in his hand.  

Ventress had sent him a message.  To his helmet!  While he was on the LAAT!  In front of the Jedi and Commander Cody!

Fortunately, their attention had all been on the TK droid head.

She wanted to listen what happened in the command center now that the Republic plans had failed.  She also sent him the location where to meet her now that his part in the CIS victory was done.  Just set some active link into the command center.

Fek!  He didn’t want to be captured.

An open comm link in the command center?  It would be too easily discovered, too easily seen and tracked back to him.

He had the hand links from the other sergeants even as he absently thought about ways of linking the Jedi into the command functions of their helmets.  Still, his mind contemplated while he walked with his squad then turned toward the center.

He’d be caught.

_Wasn’t that what he wanted?_

_For them - the other clones - to know?_

_Wouldn’t they’d always wonder why he was a traitor?_

_Wouldn’t they realize that they didn’t need to always follow orders?  That they were more than Kamino’s commodities and slaves of the Jedi?  Deserving the rights of citizens?_

He knew his squad was broken now; not by his treatment of them but by the inescapable revelation that he was a traitor.  Had the cruelty really been necessary to weaken them in their first step to freedom and to understanding their potential?  Slick wasn’t sure anymore.

He stared at her message for a moment, nodding at two troopers in the corridor.  But, in his imagination he could see their reaction to his treason.  Especially Commander Cody who had interviewed him and chosen him for the special assignment that had led to all this.

He rubbed his finger over the smooth surface of the comm link.

Could he break Commander Cody like he’d broken his new squad?  

It might be worth the try and there was no reason - no _real_ reason to try to remain free.  Without his brothers and Maruli, he had no incentive to stay alive.  The only thing he lived for now was his vodes’ freedom, breaking the troopers so they understood their slavery and their prisons.

But, if he could break the commander then Cody might gain his freedom.  He might reach his full potential and continue the work to set the clone army free of Kaminoans and Jedi.  He’d be in a much better position to actually provide some kind of a future for free men.

Slick sighed a heavy breath.

It wasn’t really that straightforward.  

He didn’t want to be caught and executed.  Kamino had programmed enough self-preservation in him to not want to die.

Or was that merely a human response?

He wasn’t sure of that either.

Ventress had promised to take him though he hadn’t really counted on going with her.  But he could have made himself a good home on Christophsis.  No other clone knew it like he did, he could have avoided capture for desertion.  It would have been a long time, if ever, before he would have found himself a woman… a wife, but eventually he would have healed.  Perhaps he would even have had children.  And, after he had tucked them into their small pods at night, he would have kissed his wife - whoever she might have been - and gone outside.  Each night he would have gone out to see the stars and meteors of Christophsis.  Each night he would recite remembrance for his first squad and his first love.

He would have stared upward at the asteroids of Christophsis, quick and brilliant like his brothers, wondering if the men of his second and best squad had achieved their freedom yet.  If they - somewhere in their souls - thanked the powers that existed that they’d been in _his_ squad.

Now, there would be no woman for him, no vatlings or cadets - no children.   But, he knew the men he’d broken would someday be free.

It would be only a matter of time.

They’d never know how much he had loved them and what he’d done for them.

Softly, he set the open communications link on the console and strode from the command center.


	22. No Other Option

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual notification that I don't own Star Wars. Parts of this chapter are verbatim from the episode "The Hidden Enemy" from Star Wars: The Clone Wars

Slick listened over the channel.  

**At least we’re not the only ones having a bad day**

Slick laughed.  If all went as planned, the Jedi would be having a very bad day indeed and this would only be the beginning.

**Generals, they had all our intel.**

**That would explain the ambush. How could we have left ourselves so vulnerable to a security breach?**

**I don’t think we did**

**You think someone infiltrated our defenses?**

**Possibly. It would have to be someone cunning and resource enough to gain access to all our plans.**

Slick’s lips twisted in a sardonic smile.  Cunning?  Resourceful?  Didn’t that describe all clones?

**But that still wouldn’t explain how they got our intel.**

**No, you’re right. They wouldn’t act alone. They’d have someone working with them.**

**A spy, sir. But who would want to betray our troops to the seppies?**

Slick frowned at Commander Cody’s question.  He wasn’t betraying the troops; only the Jedi.

**Excellent question commander perhaps it’s time we made a visit behind enemy lines. I think we’ll find our answers there.**

**We’ll get right on it**

**No, captain, I need you here to find the security breech**

Slick laughed at Kenobi’s error.  Couldn’t he tell Commander Cody from Captain Rex?  If nothing else, their armor was totally different and Captain Rex had blond hair.  Then Slick paused, wondering if the Jedi General had answered the same question from Captain Rex even before he’d asked. 

Slick wondered if he should move further away.  Perhaps Kenobi could hear his thoughts…

Slick shook his head.  If the Jedi could hear his thoughts, they’d be out here taking him to lockup or slicing him into tiny bits with their lightsabers.

He heard the doors shut and was prepared with an excuse to be heading towards the Command Center, but the generals must have gone the other way.  He didn’t see them.

**Someone left his commlink on. Someone has been listening to everything we said**

There was a tiny click as commlink was switched off.  

Time to go and Slick wondered why he’d been so incautious as to hang around the command center when the transmission went straight to Ventress.  Did he want to be caught? 

He ran.

“Hey, stop.” Rex

As he ran, Slick wondered why he’d run. He could have talked his way out of it.  He even had a reasonable excuse, ‘Barlex left the comm link on before going to medical’.   That would have worked, gaining him time.  Running simply proved he was guilty.

He waited until the curve of the corridor hid him from view of his pursuers then entered the next door as he let his breathing even.  It was the mess.  Slick looked over the troopers and smiled.  There were plenty of clones in the mess and it would take time for the new commander to identify and link them to squads then determine their whereabouts for the last minute or so.  Slick slipped his body in the narrow space behind to the dispenser supply and moved down the repair corridor towards the kitchens.

He was moving towards the exit of the building to his escape and rendezvous with Ventress when Sergeant-Medic Ferritin saw him in the corridor.

“Slick,”  Ferritin gestured the sergeant toward him.  “I’d like to check you after that transfusion.”  He grinned and Slick smiled back though he was eager to be on his way.

“My barracks are just around the corner,” he offered and Ferritin fell into step with him.

“I wouldn’t have suggested anyone do a transfusion like that.  Kix - that’s the 501ster’s name - was bleeding out.  You would have as well.”

Slick ducked his head and chuckled.  “I knew we’d get to medical in time for me.  Gus doesn’t ride the BARCs, he flies them.  I wasn’t so sure about the wounded vod.”

Ferritin was quiet as he ran through a battery of tests then nodded in the absent way all medics did when everything was within perimeters.  He stood and moved towards the door then turned.

“What do you think of the new general?”  

“Better than the old,” Slick quipped then dropped his head in hidden shame. “I wished we had this one from the beginning.  It’s barely been four days and I already know he’s not like the other one.”

Ferritin nodded.  “I have hope with General Kenobi.  He came to medical with Commander Cody checking on the wounded and asking if we needed any supplies.  We had a good talk and…”  Ferritin paused.  “It seemed as if he really cared about the wounded.  Not just the refugees but the clonetroopers as well.”

“Perhaps this one plans to take care of his tools.”

Ferritin had just left, advising him to ‘take it light’ when Commander Cody and Captain Rex entered the barracks.  

There was no option now other than to see how it all played out.


	23. Misdirection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, copyright of Star Wars belongs to someone beside myself. Most of the action and dialogue are from Star Wars: The Clone Wars episode 'The Hidden Enemy'.

 

Their visit wasn’t merely incidental and Slick wished he’d put Ferritin off with some excuse and a promise to ‘check in later’.

“Sergeant Slick.  You’ve met Captain Rex?”  Cody gestured to the captain in blue-trimmed armor.

“On the battlefield, sir.”  Slick turned to the blonde clone with a nod.  “You’ve got good troopers, Captain.”  

Captain Rex nodded.  “I thought you had good troopers as well.”

Slick noted the phrasing.   _ I thought _ ... past tense.  And that little emphasis on the word.  It would take subtlety for him to lead these two where they believed what he wanted them to believe.

“However, I may be changing my mind.”  He crossed his arms, the expression of his face turning from neutral to grim.  “For at least one of your troopers.”

Slick tilted his head in curiosity then glanced into Commander Cody’s eyes as if genuinely puzzled.

“We have found indications of illicit messages, sergeant”  Cody’s voice was sadly regretful.  “Evidence indicates that these unauthorized transmissions came from this barracks.  Only your squad has access to these consoles.”

“Court-martial, at best.”  Rex folded his arms over his chest.  “At worst…”  His dark eyebrows raised in both question and accusation.

“No.”  Slick forced indignation into his voice as he heard the barracks door open.  “No way.  My guys are the best. No way they’re capable of something like this.”  

_ They weren’t, but he was. _

“Something like what?” Gus asked and Slick turned to face his squad observing for clues of who would be easiest to blame.

Chopper was, unusual for the scarred trooper, first in line. It reiterated for Slick that Chopper was the squad’s unofficial lead - not himself.  Not really.  Not any more.  

Gus was next, his official position as Slick’s second translating to Chopper’s as well.  Then Jester in the middle followed by Punch and Sketch.

“You called them here?”  Slick’s mind worked how to set this to his advantage.  He knew these clones.  Their strengths.  Their weaknesses.  Very definitely, he knew their weaknesses.  He had created their weaknesses.

Commander Cody spoke, this time with no weakness in his voice.  “Of course we did.  We’re getting to the bottom of this.  Now.”

Slick leaned forward.  If he could have a short time with them alone, he could set up Chopper or Jester to look like the traitor.  “Look… let me have a few minutes with them first.  It’s going to hit them hard.  They trust each other.  And, if one of our own betrayed us…”

The commander shook his head.  “I don’t think that’s necessary.”  He walked along the line of troopers.  “Your men are tough.  Right?”  He gave a nod of his head.  “Take a seat, gentlemen.”

Slick observed Jester move toward his bunk.  His right hand absently rubbed over his left hand - had he been out punching the wall recently?  And, he’d been in the protected slot, in the middle of the squad.  He was feeling nervous.  Slick could work with that.  It would be easy to have Jester turn into a stuttering wreck with only a few words.  He gazed briefly over the others, pausing at Chopper.  

He had worked hard on Chopper and beneath that capable, effective battle-brilliance was something soft and brittle that could easily be crushed.  But, while Chopper wasn’t looking either the commander or captain in the face, he was sitting front and center ready to answer any questions.  Gus was beside him, a position of support.

He’d work on Jester then.  He caught Jester’s eye as he sat on the edge of his bunk and gave a tiny shake of his head with a frown.   _ You, _ he thought, putting all the force of his hate into that stare and feeling the muscles of his face tighten.   _ You. _

Jester’s eyes widened and his mouth opened as if to ask something but Slick rolled his eyes and turned toward Cody and Rex, catching the barest glimpse of Jester bowing his head and closing his quivering lips over whatever he’d been about to say.

“We have a turncoat in our midst.  And we think it’s one of you.”  

Slick covered his amusement.  Commander Cody had no subtlety.  

Chopper glanced towards his bunk where he kept the droid finger necklace.  Gus folded his arms with the barest glance towards Chopper.  Sketch’s surprise was evident in how his eyes widened and  Punch looked towards Sketch.  Or was Punch looking towards Chopper or Gus and wondering about one of them.  Then Punch dropped his face with a thoughtful frown as Chopper moved to his bunk.

Slick took a step back, opening the pathway to Jester’s bunk with a slight palm gesture.   _ Start here _ , his body seemed to say.  Cody and Rex turned toward Jester and Slick’s lips twitched.  They were so easy to control.  All of them from the lowest CT to command clones.

Jester looked up from his gloved hand.  His eyes widened as he realized Commander Cody and Captain Rex were staring down at him.

“I… I… I… I don’t know.”  Jester stuttered his words and Slick knew he hated showing that weakness.  He’d try to cover it up and that would only make it worse.  He glanced towards the others and must have received some sort of signal.  He spoke without stuttering hesitation.   “I was doing the things I always do after a mission.”  He rubbed his hand over his fist again and let loose a breathy gasp.  Slick wasn’t sure if it was from anxiety or pain.  If pain, he’d have Jester check in with medical and make some excuse about…  No, Jester would be in lock-up.

“Things like what?”

“I’m sorry, sir.  Just a little nervous.”  Again, he glanced towards his squad-mates and, again his words came clearly.   “You’re my CO.”

“Way I figure it, you tell the truth you got nothing to be nervous about.”  Rex’s comment was so reasonable.  But Slick had trained Jester that ‘reasonable’ was just a prelude to demerits and harsh words.  Jester’s eyes widened and he grimaced. Slick hid his grin.  Jester’s next words would be an incoherent mess and Slick would be able to convince everyone that Jester was the leak.  Accidentally, of course, Jester was such a screw-up that it would have to be accidental.  He’d be gone by the time the truth was discovered.

But the next words didn’t come from Jester.  They came from Sketch.

“Jester is telling the truth.  Cleans his weapon after every mission.  First thing every time.  He’s kind of obsessed that way.”

Cody and Rex glanced from Sketch, relaxed and nothing more than curious about what was going on.  His body language was open and truthful.  They glanced back at Jester.  

“Is that right?  You were cleaning your weapon?”  

“Yes,sir.”  Jester’s words were firm.

“Go on the computer while you were in here?”

“No sir.”  Jester looked up into Cody’s eyes as if surprised by the question.  Slick knew what it meant and how they had discovered him.  Those messages to Ventress.  He’d been careless.  And, no matter what he thought late at night about how his capture would wake everyone up to their reality - he _didn't_ want to be caught.

“I didn’t even power it up,”  Jester continued as he gestured to the console.  “You can check.” 

Cody and Rex look at each other.  Slick saw the silent message between them.  They were good leaders.  He swallowed some sour emotion back into himself.

Cody reached out.  “Show me your weapon.”  Jester handed the cleaned DC-15 to the commander who ran his fingers over the weapon.  “ Yep.  Freshly scrubbed.”

“The rag’s over there in the corner.”  It was voluntary information from Jester and that was mildly surprising to Slick.

“Good man.”  Cody’s words to Jester had him straightening his shoulders in pride.  Slick sighed softly.  No, it wouldn’t be Jester who was weak today - not after praise from the commander. 

Cody turned towards Punch and Sketch sitting on a supply crate.  He made a slight gesture with his hand and nodded at Punch.  “You.  You were cleaning your weapon too?”

“No.  I.. I was hungry.  I went back to the mess.”

“Right away,” asked Rex with tight command in his voice.

“Oh, yeah.”

Slick smirked at Punch’s insolence.  He wouldn’t be able to blame Punch or Sketch about the transmissions but both Cody and Rex would remember that impertinence.

“Anyone with you?”  The tone of the question was harder this time.  A reminder that Punch was a trooper being questioned by his officers.

Punch straightened in respect at that hard voice.  “Sketch.  Sir.”

“We got to the mess at the same time, got our grub and sat together.”  Sketch spoke quickly on the heel of Punch’s words, always looking out for his  _ vod _ .  

“Anyone else in the mess able to confirm what you two are saying?”

Sketch nodded.  “Lots of guys there.  Ask any of them.”

“Oh,  For at least one of your troopers.we will.”  It was a threat but Sketch nodded as if expecting to be checked up on.

Slick moved forward staying slightly behind Cody and Rex as they approached Gus.  “Captain, give me just a moment with them.”

He could still save the situation.  He could isolate Chopper from the rest of the squad and have them pick out the scarred trooper with his abnormal habits as the traitor.  Slick didn’t looked at the trooper, knowing Chopper’s eyes were on him.  Oddly enough, it was Gus to interrupt his plans.

“No, it’s ok sarge.  I’ve got nothing to hide.  I was in the infirmary.  Got banged up pretty good by one of those clankers.  Med-droid fixed me up.”  Gus held up his arm for Cody who gently supported the weight of the of the wound.  “Docs got all the records there if you want to check.”

Cody gave a slight nod.  So, they’d be checking on the statements of all the troopers.  That would take time and Slick would use that time wisely as soon as they left the barracks with whichever trooper - most likely Chopper now - they believed to be the greatest threat to security.

Rex stood before Chopper’s bunk.  “So.  Chopper, old boy. What’s your alibi?”

_ Chopper, old boy.  _  Slick closed his eyes in pleasure as he wondered where Rex had heard that phrase.  Slick had coined that idiom  and  Chopper hated it more than the demerits he had accumulated.

Chopper turned his face away from Captain Rex, his eyes no longer on Slick.  “I was in the mess hall.”

Sketch stood with a burst.  “No you weren’t.”  For a moment he stood aghast, his mouth open with a look of astonishment and sadness.  “I mean you…”  He swallowed and his expression was regretful.  

“If you know something kid, you should speak up.”  Cody turned his attention to Sketch as did Rex.

Only Slick saw the small nod that Chopper gave Sketch, as if confirming everything would be alright.

“Chopper came in a lot later.”  Sketch spoke slowly.  “After everyone else.”

Slick knew Chopper had been tending to his trophies.  The only ones who didn’t know were Cody and Rex.  It meant he couldn’t have been the trooper they chased down the hall to the mess, but Slick wouldn’t let them think that far.  He’d have to push the droid fingers and how only a broken clone - a traitorous clone - would do such a thing.  They’d find out but Slick planned to be gone with five minutes after they left the barracks.

“‘Where were you before you went to the mess, Chopper?”

“Nowhere.”  Chopper shrugged without looking into their eyes.  He lounged rudely in the bunk.  “Walking around.”

“Son, you know we’ll need a better answer than that.”  Commander Cody’s voice held a note that Slick couldn’t identify for a moment.

Kindness.

And, Chopper responded to that unexpected kindness, releasing everything in a single sigh.  “I was hiding.  At the south exit.  I didn’t want anyone to see me string these together.”  He reached between the mattress and the bunk to bring out his trophies.

Slick wondered what it meant that Chopper would give up those fingers so easily.

“Battle droid fingers.”  Rex’s disgust rolled in his words. 

“I… I just… I just wanted something back.  I guess I felt like… like they owed me.”  Chopper stared at the necklace in his hand.  His mouth opened slightly as if he had more to say.

“I always knew there was something deficient about you.”  Gus’s words closed Chopper down.  He turned away from them, facing the wall.

Slick saw his opening and moved closer to the trooper.  “This isn’t good, Chopper.  Lying about where you were.  Taking forbidden items from a battlefield.  I know.  I’ve worked with the attitude because you have skill.  But if you could break these rules then your whole character’s in question.”

“What?”  He stared at Slick.  “No.  Hang on.  I’m no spy.”  

Slick moved from accusation to sympathy.  “Chopper, we’re all brothers but how can we trust anything you say now?”

“No.”  He turned towards Cody.  “Sir.  I’m telling you I did not...

“It’s ok.”  Slick continued speaking.  Reasonably.  Kindly.  As if he was a sergeant who truly cared for his vode.  “We’ll get you a proper investigation.  You don’t have to say anything until the Jedi come back and talk to you.”  He put his hand on Chopper’s left shoulder where he had fewer scars. 

Reflexively, Chopper turned and knocked off Slick’s hand.  “Maybe you should talk, sir.”  He leaned forward, trying to intimidate Slick.  “Tell them where you were.  I was at the south exit.  Remember?  I saw you go in, sir.  I saw you.”

It wasn’t unexpected that someone would have seen him head towards the command center.  The important thing was to keep pressing Chopper, to keep him off-balance and feeling guilty.  “Chopper, I have been patient…”

“Everyone else turned right for the barracks and the mess.”  You turned left toward the command center.  Where were you going, sir?”  Chopper’s breath was hot on Slick’s face.  “Where were you going?”

“Obviously the kid feels caught.”  Slick leaned back, intentionally relaxing his shoulders and reaching for Chopper’s arm to guide him towards the door.  It would only be natural for Cody and Rex to take Chopper for further questioning and Slick would leave.  Leave the barracks, leave the base, leave the battle and Christophsis and all that pain that had occurred.

“Sergeant.  What did you mean ‘til the Jedi come back’.”  Cody took a step, putting himself almost between Chopper and Slick.  “How did you know the Jedi were gone?”

 For an instant the silence spread among the troopers and Slick sighed as he realized his mistake.  “I really wish you hadn’t noticed that, sir.”  


	24. Shame

Slick moved down the hallway quickly.  Neither the commander nor the captain would make an announcement over the intercom.  At most, they would close down the entryways and restrict access to certain levels under some security exercise.

He gave a quick nod to some troopers but continued in that quick pace.  He moved away from the command center and from areas frequented by clones.  Slick smiled.  They wouldn’t think about the civilian portions of the base where most clones were considered unwelcome, such as the main entry by the civilian refugee center.  The wouldn’t consider areas off-limits to most of the clones like Senator-Prince Organa’s quarters.

Slick moved down the corridor of the royal’s area.  One of his civilian guards at his doorway gave Slick a curious look and raised eyebrow in question but Slick gave a quick gesture.

“A short cut to the armory.  There’s been a rumor of a stranger and I want to make sure the armory is secure.”

The guard nodded.  “Should I alert Senator…”

Slick shook his head.  “Probably a false alarm.”

The guard nodded and Slick was past him and out the entry way that lead to the innermost yard of the base.  It was, dusk spread out before him and the glittering stars above.  Once he had considered Christophsis a beautiful planet.  But that was when he had a squad of brothers and a woman to love.  

At the armory, he dismissed the guard.  There was no need for him to die.  One life.  Slick had taken this detour because he didn’t want the sentry to die.  He could have set the dets remotely and already been at the meeting place.  He re-set the detonators in the armory for with enough time to get away.  After a moment’s thought, he set up the thermal detonators and a concussive grenade in his belt and set it in front of the armory.  

Standard practice for known live grenade was duck and cover.  He didn’t want any more clones killed.

Not even Commander Cody and Captain Rex.

Then he started back towards the buildings of the base.  He’d go through medical then into the refugee camp.  It was nearing time for people to gather food and there’d be plenty of empty tents and lean-tos for him to grab some civilian cloak to cover his armor.

Behind him he heard the explosions and the shouting of clones.  The noise seemed to break his heart as the screeching and crashing rolled over him and he remembered destroying the crystal tower for Maruli’s monument.  A faint echo of that same ache stabbed into his heart.  There was no more brotherhood.  He had destroyed that along with the armory.

As he moved towards the entry, he saw two clones guarding it.  It wouldn’t be a problem until he recognized them as Sketch and Punch.  He turned toward the south entry and the command center.  He wasn’t two corridors in before he heard the deck officer giving commands.  

As he thought, they would turn it into a security exercise - though that excuse wouldn’t last long as the armory continued its path of self-destruction.  Then he heard Jester’s voice and pulled himself against a wall next to some troopers’ cartons.

“Tell them that Sergeant Slick has volunteered to be the fox in this search.”  Oddly, Jester didn’t stutter a single word.  “Anyone who sights Slick should report it directly to you or to one of Slick’s squad.  Me, Chopper, Gus, Punch, or Sketch.  We’ll report to command as well but you have the responsibility of the barracks and the civilians.”

Slick frowned as the squad and Jester trotted past the corridor he was in.  He heard the movement of the two or three troopers they’d left behind.

Then he looked up and smiled at the ceiling grate.

* * * * * * * * * *

Slick looked down into the empty room.  It was fairly dark, console panels bright with lights from the emergency generators.  He had thought this might happen since the base electric supply was not far from the armory but he hadn’t counted on it.

There was no one evident and his fingers tightened on the grate when Cody and Rex burst into the command center.  Somewhere they had picked up weapons.

Cody glanced around the center but saw no one.  “Pretend you’re Slick.  What’s in your head?”

Slick almost laughed.  What was in his head?  Pain.  Nothing but pain and grief.

“My cover’s blown.  It’s time to go.  I decide not to use a ship because it’s too obvious.”  

Slick wanted to tell Rex he was all wrong.

There was a moment of silence and  Slick wished he could see their faces.  A lot of information could be shared among vode with a single expression.

“The lockdown.  He wants to get around the lockdown.  He’s blinded us by taking down the power.  He could disable entire security system.”

Cody set aside the deece.  “Yeah, but he knows we’d expect him to do that.”

Slick silent pulled at the vent bars.  They were quiet and  moved easily.  Perfect, like everything else in the GAR.  Perfect.  Like clones.

“Or does he?”  There was another quick glance between the commander and the captain.  “Yeah, I see what you’re getting at.”

Slick wished he could see what they were getting at.  He was running late and probably wouldn’t make the rendezvous with Ventress unless this was the final delay and he ran all out or took a BARC.

“Go to the south exit.”  Cody’s fingers ran over the computer board.  Several colors shifted and Slick stretched to see exactly what he’d just done but Cody’s shoulders hid the console from his view.

“What are you going to do?”  

“I’ll stay here.  Get the power backup.  That will help.”

It would and Slick was glad for it.  There were several clones in bacta tanks and the generators would only hold for so long in the chaos of conflicting energy demands from the base.

“Got it.”  Rex moved from his view as the door slammed.  

Slick, his eyes on Cody’s deece, lowered himself silently from the ceiling.  He grabbed the deece and knew Cody was aware of him by the set of his shoulders.  Even before Cody spoke, he knew it was a trap.

“Hey there, Slick.  Gun’s empty.”  Cody held up the ammunition pack of the blaster and Slick saw the cartridge from Cody’s deece even as he heard Rex behind him.  He didn’t think Rex’s weapon had the blaster cartridge removed.

“You know what’s funny, traitor,” Rex almost gloated.  “We knew you’d never take a chance on the exits while they were blocked. “

Cody nodded.  “I’d stay here and open them myself first.”  He took the empty deece from Slick and slide in the cartridge.  “Just like you.”

 _No,_ thought Slick.   _Not just like me.    Can’t even you see how individual we are?_

Rex poked the blaster in his back with enough force to push him forward a step. “Don’t do a job until you’re guaranteed the best odds.”  He pressed the deece into Slick’s face.  “Right?”

Slick turned his head to Rex.  From their voices, Rex was the emotional one at the moment.  He’d be the weaker of the two clones and he was between Slick and the door.  “You knew I was here.”

“Of course we knew.”  Rex slide back into regulation stance, the deece in one hand.  “You think we wouldn’t have a plan.”

But the stance was for a hand blaster and a deece would be harder to control held like that.  Slick saw the moment.   “I’m not the traitor.”  He raised his hands in surrender, his eyes on the deece.  He let the words soak into the air.  They were clones, like him, and wouldn’t want to believe a clone was a traitor.  There’d be an instance when their guard was down and they would listen.

In that moment, Slick leaped forward to push Rex’s deece to one side.  “You are.”  The shock of the accusation froze the commander and Slick had the weapon.

But clones were fast and Commander Cody was already on the attack.  It took a knee to his face to push him back and Slick rushed to the door.  Someone tackled him and he fell, turning to confront the commander on top of him.

“All of you blindly following orders.”  Punches from the commander rained down on Slick.  He guarded with his arms.  “And for what?”  Slick pulled his legs up, around Cody’s neck and was on top of him.  This time it was his fists raining blows.  “At least I got something out of all this suffering.”

From behind Rex grabbed him around the throat and grunted.  “Yeah, I bet you sold out your brothers for some really shiny coin, huh?”

Slick slammed back his head to loosen Rex’s grip and bent to grab his leg, sending the captain to the ground.  He twisted Rex’s leg and stood over the captain.

“Yes, she offered me money.  But she offered me something more important.  Something you wouldn’t understand.  Freedom!”

He turned to face the commander, but all he saw was Cody’s fist.

* * * * * * * * * * 

He was in binders, his hands behind him, when he woke.  Rex pulled him to his feet and out the door.

“I think freedom’s going to have to wait, kid.”

Cody was there, to the side of the door.  He turned his head and crossed his arms, stoic anger in his stance.  

 _Shame,_ thought Slick.   _He’s ashamed of himself.  As though he’s to blame.  He’ll break.  One day, he’ll be free._

Behind the commander two clones, Kad and Ori, waited and, to his left, the two Jedi walked towards him.

Kenobi’s blue eyes went wide in surprise.  “Slick?  It was you?

Slick lowered his face - a little ashamed, himself.  Kenobi had been kinder than most Jedi and more caring than many civilians.

Behind him, Rex spoke.  “He gave us a bit of a chase, sir.”

Kenobi only looked at Slick but Skywalker spoke into the quiet.  “You couldn’t be a greater disappointment.  How could you do this to your brothers?”

Slick snorted at the younger man.  This was a Jedi who cared nothing for the clones who followed him.  This was a Jedi who randomly followed his precious Force around the battlefield, leaving his brothers in confusion.  

“Only Jedi would ask that.  It’s the Jedi who keep my brothers enslaved.  We do your bidding.  We serve at your whim.”  He saw Kenobi’s face open as if surprised at the accusation.  Skywalker’s face closed as if contemplating punishment.  

“I just wanted something more.”   _I just wanted to be human.  I just wanted a future._

“And all you had to do to get it was put the rest of us all at risk.”  Rex tightened his grip on Slick’s wrist.

“I… I love my brothers.  You’re too blind to see it.  I was striking a blow for all clones.”  He grimaced; perhaps the Jedi were reading his mind.  Perhaps they knew that he was planning the clones’ freedom.  He tried to blank his mind.

It was Commander Cody who turned to him, angry accusation in his words.  “If you loved your brothers, you wouldn’t have put them at risk.

Rex whispered into his ear.  “You betrayed everyone of us.”

“Take him to lockup,” Cody ordered Kad and Ori who stepped forward.  They took him by the arms, escorting him past the two Jedi.

As they took him to lockup, curiosity was evident in the posture but Slick said nothing to them, knowing the Jedi would scan their minds for any little bit of information.

Like him, they were only slaves.  Only commodities to be used.


	25. Sorrow's Punchline

Slick didn’t say anything once Kad and Ori put him in lock-up.  Of course they took his blaster and his armor, giving him some civilian one-unit jumpsuit but he didn’t fight them.  He was tired of fighting and it all seemed so  futile.

The Jedi came to interview him but Slick merely leaned back in his bunk and ignored them.  Their questions were pointless and they were the ones who had ordered the creation of the clones.  Slick wondered if it might have been better to never exist at all than to exist in such hopelessness..

Skywalker left the cell with a disgusted, ‘he’s all yours, master’ that almost made Slick laugh.

_Master?_

Then Slick felt sick.

Kenobi watched him with those crystal blue eyes and seemed all sympathetic.  Several times he felt like answering Kenobi, who had been genuinely kind.  He felt like telling everything General Kenobi wanted to know - from the first time he’d met Asajj Ventress to why he’d put some of his brothers in danger for the benefit of them all.  Sometimes he wanted to tell the general about Maruli and how her love had made him more than simply a flash-trained flesh-droid.  Sometimes he wanted to tell the Jedi how her death had made him prepared to betray everything he’d ever known because it was all a lie.  Sometimes he wanted to tell what he’d done to shame Gus because Gus would never tell anyone.

Mostly he wanted to tell anyone who didn’t already know about the Kaminoans and his formative years in training before he’d led five of the best troopers that Kamino had produced to their needless deaths following the incompetent Jedi general they’d been given.

However, he knew this was simply some Jedi mind trick so he ignored the feelings and said nothing to the Jedi.

Kenobi had stood and quietly walked to the bunk where Slick lounged in lonely insolence.  His expression was troubled and he had lightly touched Slick on his shoulder.  “I’m sor…” he began but Slick cut him off.

“Don’t,” Slick snarled, jerking away from Kenobi’s hand.  “Don’t lie to me, Jedi.  Our entire existence is your lie.”

He wouldn’t be able to withstand kindness.  Kindness would have him revealing everything and, at the very least, they would destroy those clones who’d been on Christophsis and in contact with him.

Kenobi had stared at him for a long while then quietly departed the cell.

Separately, Commander Cody and Captain Rex came to see him.

Slick stood and saluted the Commander then stood in parade rest the entire time, but decided not to say anything to his questions.  Things might have turned out differently if Commander Cody had been in charge from the beginning. Slick didn’t really think so, but for the possibility, Slick was respectful.  Commander Cody didn’t stay long and he only spoke a single word.

“Why?”

Only to Captain Rex did Slick say anything.  

Even in lock-up, Slick had heard about Teth and it was simply more confirmation that clones were nothing more than expendable battle units for the Jedi.  Meat-cans.  Flesh-droids.  Human clankers.  Fodder.

Captain Rex ordered the guards away and, once they reluctantly left, stepped into the cell after setting his helmet carefully on the outer shelf.  Gently he touched one of the blue jaig eyes.  Slick saw his hand tremble.  Jaig eyes for bravery.  Bravery in watching over your men.  The captain thought he had failed though Slick knew clones were meant to fail.  

Then Rex carefully removed his gauntlets and casually set them next to the blue trimmed helmet.

Slick knew what was coming.

It was easy to see Rex wanted to beat information out of Slick simply as an excuse.  His anger and pain were written in his face, his hands clenched in hard fists.  It was easy to see Rex wanted to hurt someone like he’d been hurt for his lost company.  It was so easy to see he wanted to be attacked simply so he could pummel living flesh and pretend that would make a difference.  So simple to substitute the pounding of flesh in an attempt to ease the confusion of emotions.

Though that wouldn’t work either.

Slick stood at parade rest and looked the captain in the eyes with compassion as he entered the cell.  “You,” he said softly in grief, “would understand.”

Captain Rex trembled in rage at those words, his fists clenching as much as his teeth.  Rex didn’t move, only glaring at Slick in hatred and Slick knew that he’d never been closer to death than at that very moment.

He gave a small nod, letting the captain know that death would be accepted without fighting.  Welcome, even, given the circumstances.

Rex turned and stalked out of the cell, grabbing his helmet and gauntlets then slamming the electronic door so hard Slick heard the main circuit snap.  Rex, shoving his bucket on his head and stalking down the corridor, didn’t notice.

He didn’t have to break the captain; war had done it for him.

Though Slick wasn’t pleased that it had taken the death of an entire company to free one clone.  There had to be a more effective way than destruction and war; there had to be a better way than cruelty and death.

Slick shook his head and sat on the bench leaning against the wall, waiting for the guards to return and notice the broken cell door.  Escape was no longer an option he wanted to pursue.  There was nothing on Christophsis except sorrow.

Slick wished he had time to think of kinder ways to free his brothers and try them out.  He didn’t regret what he’d done to the men of his squad.  Gus, Chopper, Jester, Sketch, Punch - eventually they would be free.  Captain Rex as well and even Commander Cody.  

What he did regret was how he’d done it.  He regretted the cruelty.

* * * * * * * * * *

Two days later both Commander Cody and Captain Rex came into the cell.  They oversaw him as he stripped, washed, and put on clean clothing.  Captain Rex set binders on his wrists.

“Firing squad,” he asked them quietly, glancing at the deece in Cody’s arms.

Commander Cody refused to look at him or say anything to him.

“No,” replied Rex, his expression somehow sympathetic beneath all those healing bruises.

“Ah.  Kamino then.”  Neither clone said anything but Slick knew.  Kamino was the beginning for all clones.  It was only right that it should be his end as well.

They put him on a LAAT and climbed in with him.  He raised an eyebrow and spoke.  “An escort of commander and captain?  I feel privileged.”

Captain Rex linked his binders to the bench hold.  

Commander Cody ignored him until he was sure Slick was secure then moved forward to give orders to the pilot.  Rex watched him, his only expression a reflective frown.  

Slick knew that expression.  He’d seen it often in the mirror.  Thinking of things that shouldn’t be thought.  Thinking beyond Kamino flash-training.

Both commander and captain pulled on their helmets against the noise though Slick noticed they didn’t do so in tandem.  Rather, one watched him with the other… spoke with the pilots or pulled on his helmet.

Was he so dangerous?

He shook his head.  Not to his brothers.  He gestured to the near empty area of the LAAT.  “If you’re so frightened of me, why not a squad or two of guards?”

They ignored him but the answer was obvious.  The Jedi wanted to keep him away from other clones.

“And, if I’m so dangerous to other clones, why aren’t the Jedi escorting me?”

Because they didn’t have an answer, they didn’t give him one.  He suspected the Jedi had ordered them to not speak to him so they would remain pure - uncontaminated by his knowledge.

Slick peered out the small window and gave a single, soft chuckle as he looked down from the transport LAAT onto the broken city as the LAAT lifted in a wide, circular path.

“A Seppie joke?” asked the commander of the 212th.  They were the first words he’d said to Slick and he knew it was only to find out if there was more to this traitorous episode than the armory.

Slick nodded slowly.  “A punchline, at least.”

“I don’t think we’d find it humorous,” replied Captain Rex.

“You’d find it hilarious, sir.”  Slick’s voice was wistful as he looked down at what had once been a small, makeshift bar where a clone trooper had met a pretty girl and fallen in love.

Silently, he lifted his shackled hands and touched the window with a finger.

Through tears, the building blurred and dwindled into the landscape.

 

 

 


	26. Inevitability

Slick had been surprised to be shipped out rather than immediately executed on Christophsis.  He was just as surprised to be taken to Coruscant rather than directly to Kamino for terminal reconditioning.

At the Jedi Temple, he was thoroughly interrogated but only about CIS information. Anytime he wanted to lead them back to Kamino and how everything had begun, they directed the interrogation towards Christophsis and Ventress and how the information had been passed and what did he know of their strategy and tactics and strength of numbers.

_Di'kut Jedi._

They interrogated him until his head screamed surrender and his nose bled but he told them almost nothing they wanted and they wanted nothing he wished to tell them.

Slick knew he shouldn't have been surprised when the Jedi decided to return him to Kamino after interrogation, but he was.  Were the Jedi too afraid to kill an unarmed man or was it some other of their odd ways? 

"You own me," he yelled as they transferred him to the transport. "You are responsible for my beginning, and you should be responsible for my end.  Cowards."  Windu and Gallia said nothing as they oversaw his departure and Slick straightened into parade rest. "You are fools."  He shook his head sadly as he realized they thought him nothing more than insane. "The universe is far more flexible than you." 

Kamino scared him.

The Jedi could reach into his mind and turn him inside out, the Jedi could make him regret his very existence.  The Jedi could make him not realize he existed but he feared the Kaminoans more. It was an irrational fear and far more potent simply for having its origin in his very short childhood.

Slick thought it over as he waited in a cell on Kamino.  Maybe they'd do a clean wipe - terminal reconditioning - and use his body for spare parts or experimentation.  Then it wouldn't matter. But maybe, just maybe, they would do a simple recondition and send him out in the field again.  The Kaminoans were meticulously economical and Slick decided to bet on the second alternative.  He would lose it all anyway.

At lights out, he bit at his thumb, ripping off a thin, jagged sliver of nail and set to work.

Gus. 

He scratched it into the softest, most hidden skin he had - his inner thigh. 

Chopper. 

That he scratched as well, laughing at himself. Chopper hated him and would take great pleasure in recounting every detail of each cruelty and treasonous act he'd done. 

Next was Jester, and Slick had to bite off a second nail. Sketch and Punch were last but not for any particular reason.  He put their names together so he would know they were brothers.

If he was merely reconditioned, he'd see those scratches.  They wouldn't turn into scars but in the next few days they'd itch and be visible as words.  He'd see them when he came out of reconditioning and inspected his face and body to discover who he was.  He'd see them and one day, after Kamino sent him back into war, he'd find out who they were.

No one would tell him what he'd done and there was a good chance Chopper would be standing next to him in line for reconditioning in the morning.  Slicked frowned to himself.  He hoped not.  That had never been his intention.  He had miscalculated how badly the trooper was broken before becoming part of the squad.  Chopper had hidden it well.

Even just knowing who they were might tell him something about who he had been.  He didn't think he'd ever remember his plan and that was a pity but the plan had never been for him.  The plan for his brothers' freedom was inevitable and already in motion.

Slick spent the rest of the night simply breathing.  He reveled in each breath, recognizing it as one of his last.  He enjoyed the coolness of the air on his skin and he blew across the back of his hands to feel the tiny hairs tingle.  He tensed and relaxed muscle groups, not as exercise but simply in the pleasure of his strength.

When the guard came to get him in the morning, Slick's fingers were bloody, his nails chewed to the quick, and there were streaks of blood where he'd put his hands, cuffed together, in his lap.

The escort guard paused a moment as he heard Slick's words.  

_Gar su'cuyi ni dar, gar partayli, ni darasuum._

The guard snorted in derision. "Di'kut shabuir," he muttered loud enough for Slick to hear. "You have it all backwards.  No wonder you're being reconditioned."

Slick merely smiled at the other clone. This one would be easy to break but would it be worthwhile?  He'd never be assigned anywhere but as a Kamino guard until one day in about twenty-five years when he didn't report for duty.  They would removed his body from his bunk to disposal and order another clone into his slot.  Still, there was no telling about the future and this time Slick could try to be gentle.  He could try to be kind.

"Outside of Kamino," Slick said as he stood, holding his hands out for the anonymous trooper to slip the binders onto his wrists. "It's an entirely different galaxy where we are only slaves.  For what I have learned and experienced, reconditioning is a cheap price."

The guard's body jerked as much in surprise that a prisoner had spoken to him as that same prisoner didn't seem to fear reconditioning.

As they walked down the long corridor, Slick could tell the guard was thinking about his words and knew that one day he'd rage at what he was.  Not that it would change anything.  Slick wondered if it was a cruelty or a kindness to let the trooper know he was a slave but give him no tools to change his destiny.

"I'm sorry," he told the guard before they arrived at the laboratory. "I have nothing else to give you."

At the lab, a clone in medical greens gestured the guard to take Slick to a waiting table but Slick had already turned that way.  He sat, holding up the binders for removal since there were some built into the table.  The medical clone removed them as the guard took a step back and held the blaster on him.

Slick smiled wanly and shook his head.  There was no escape.  No reason to escape.  No desire to escape.  Or perhaps reconditioning was its own escape. 

Only when he was securely fastened to the table did the Kaminoan arrive.  Vaguely he gestured dismissal at the guard who took a long look at Slick before exiting.  Slick knew that clone guard would remember him.

_Darasuum._

The Kaminoan was a low caste technician and not even interested in Slick's presence, only in the medical process and scientific equipment.  

Slick felt both a thrill of anticipation and the bitter dregs of defeat. He wouldn't be totally wiped to a living corpse, not with just a single technician overseeing the process.  That brought the thrill - he might have another chance. 

But, it also meant that what he'd done hadn't even been noticed. 

Everything had meant nothing. 

Every cruelty and every betrayal and every death had meant absolutely nothing.

Sadly, he closed his eyes.

"Maruli," he whispered to himself as he sank into his memories of her, remembering a night in the crystal tower and the feel of her next to him, laughing and showering his face with kisses.

Because he had promised his last thoughts would be of her.


	27. Reconditioning - Part 1

He woke in panic, struggling against the straps holding him down.

Restrained and frantic, he fought ferociously with panting breaths.

Slowly, through his panic he became aware of a voice - quiet and comforting.  A good voice.  A somehow-familiar voice.

"Udesii!  Udesii, vod! It's ok." The worried-looking man with dark eyes and darker hair wore soft medical clothing with medic insignia and low-rank tags on his collar.  He was a clone, but not a trooper.  

 **"** Look around, CT.  No one's attacking. You're fine. Udesii.  You're fine."

He panted, his eyes darting back and forth, taking in the surroundings trying to get a bearing on location.

He wasn't sure he believed the medic.  He didn't feel as though everything was ok.  He didn't feel fine.

The walls were white, sterile, unadorned.  Like armor.  

"I'm restrained," he said in a harsh, dry voice. "Why?  What happened to..."

There were names.  He should know them.  He _did_ know them. He could feel them in his head, the letters forming into sounds. But, instead of names coming to his thoughts, he simply fell into nothing, knowing that something terrible had happened.

His mouth opened in a grimace, his lips trying to form their names.  Something in his mind tried to stop him.  Something in his mind said this was dangerous.  Worst of all, something in his mind said these people didn't exist. 

"What happened to..."

To them - whoever they had been...

He reached into torn memories, trying to mend them, to understand.

They'd been his vod...

The best squad in the GAR...

His brothers.

"...my squad? Ven?"  He blurted out the words in a burst.  "Where's my squad," he yelled and tried to turn his head to each side searching for someone he knew.  "Roan!  Knife!  Answer!"

"Another treatment is required." A Kaminoan spoke in a soft, toneless voice from out of his view.

He understood as the worried-looking medic clone sighed and shut his eyes.  "I'll be here when you wake, vod."  He spoke almost in a whisper.

Fighting against the restraints, he screamed in rage and anguish.


	28. Reconditioning - Part 2

White.

He didn't move. 

Movement was...

His mind searched but found nothing to describe movement other than the vague 'bad' and the equally unhelpful 'good' as well as a host of military transit directions. 'Code Red Danger' and 'Restricted Entry' came closest.

So, he didn't move.

White. The room was white.

Like armor.

Armor.  ****  
** **

His mind felt the word and seemed to open.

 _Helmet_ , it supplied. _Gorget, greaves, polyn, gauntlets, lames, breastplate, cuisse, couter, rerebrace, vambrace._

With each word came a mental image in various aspects and the tactile memory of its feel and the way the locks operated.  

Was it real memory or flash memory?

Did he remember everything? Not remembering was bad?

He knew there was real memory and it felt different from flash memory but at the moment he didn't know which was which.

Though it felt like not remembering was appropriate.  

It was correct to not remember?

His mind dragged him back to the familiar.  

 _Armor_ , it insisted. _Equipment._

_Pauldron._

He didn't use a pauldron. Or a kama.

 _Blaster. Deece. Versions; 15, 17, 17A; Z6, chaingun_. He was proficient in all of them.

Informally the helmet was also called 'bucket', with view screens, monitors and filters.  Screens were changed by eye movement, filters by breath, secondary auxiliaries by sub-verbal command.

His eyes flicked to each side, taking in his surroundings.

White.

It was a room and there was a man there, also in white.  

Though not armor.

Medical. It was a recognizable symbol tagged onto his collar.  

His mind eagerly offered up a host of symbols but he quieted it, his eyes observing, flicking around to identifiable objects. Ceiling. Walls. Door. Restraints.

He was in medical.  Again words ran through his head: _medical kit, first aid, anodyne_. His mind seemed to hesitate as if waiting for a prompt of some kind. 

 _Head trauma_ , he provided even as he wondered about himself. 

His mind blanked; a quick run of what to do for some wounds - broken bones, light burns - but nothing serious like head trauma.

He obviously wasn't a medic.

Lack of information was also information.

His eyes slowly moved over the man who was watching him, one hand gently touching his shoulder.  Dark hair, tan skin, hazel eyes and clone. 

Clone?

Like him? ****  
** **

Yes, like him. ****  
** **

There was an emotion he couldn't identify, barely more than an errant thought, too fleeting to be captured.

 _Clone_ , his mind provided, enthusiastically happy to have a task it could fulfill.

_Clone. Progenitor: Fett, Jango; Mandalorian. 1.83 meters in height, 79 kilograms, black hair, brown eyes._

_Acceptable variation for clones: hair color, eye color._

_Unacceptable behavior modifications classified._  

The information, some redacted classified, continued on for a while but when it stopped, he glanced at the other clone, waiting.

The other clone smiled and patted his arm several times - almost in comfort but there was a wary expression in those brown eyes.  "There was an accident."

He'd never heard those words before but his mind knew them. As it would know future words when it heard them.  He glanced at the walls.  Or when he encountered the object. 

His eyes flicked to the clone's face and he gave a tiny, almost imperceptible, nod of understanding.

Movement was yellow restricted alert, too much movement was code red dangerous. He knew there were more descriptive words but he didn't know them.  Not yet. 

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  An accident. Perhaps that explained why he felt so weary and jumbled, why his head felt thick and lumpy on the inside.

"You were here to sharpen your attention span for sniper training and there was a power surge."

He stared at the medic but didn't bother to listen because he knew the medic was lying.  

He wasn't sure how he knew or how he knew it didn't matter.

But he was sure it was a lie.

Not understanding, he shivered in fear as he nodded to the other's words, not betraying his thoughts.

The very first thing he was learning was a lie.


	29. Prayer

It didn't bother him that he had scars.  ****  
** **

He was an experienced clonetrooper who'd seen battle and scars were only appropriate.  

What bothered him was he didn't remember getting them.  There was a blaster burn on the shoulder of his left arm and a tiny, recently-healed line on the inside of his elbow.  He had vague shadow associations of pain with the first and a feeling of urgency with the second, but nothing more.  Nothing distinct.  

He stood in front of the mirror and lightly traced the scars with his fingertips as he watched himself.  At some point he realized he would be doing this every day and, disgusted, he turned away and prepared for the day's training.  

That night, he stared at his face and traced his scars again.  He would do so in the morning and every morning for the rest of his life.  He acknowledged that now.  ****  
** **

The questioning was and always would be part of him but he would never know.  He was reconditioned.  He was now CS-R-21-8644 with that condemning R in his designation.  He'd been found insufficient on the battlefield and returned to Kamino for correction.  Never mind the lies about an accidental power surge.

Worse than unknown scars and being reconditioned were the marks on the soft skin of his inner thigh.  Small, crooked, ragged, recent scratches as if they'd been cut in the dark by something barely sharp within the past few days.   ****  
** **

Five names lightly written on his body.

That meant that it hadn't been some accidental power surge as he'd been told.  He'd known beforehand he was to be reconditioned and, in desperation, had tried to provide himself with something to remember. 

His instincts were good.  He couldn't trust the Kaminoans or their assistant clones but he could trust his instincts.  He had to.  It was all he had.

After eight days of training, his body started to feel like it sometimes belonged to him instead of to some stranger who would return at any moment to kick him out.  The scratches were gone from his skin, but he branded the names in his mind along with the promise that he'd kill himself before being reconditioned again.

He swore he'd find them one day.  That one day some unknown clone would come running up to him with a grin, calling him a name that would feel familiar even if he didn't know it.  He hoped they were still alive and decided they must be.  They had to be alive.  Otherwise why would he have tried to keep their names?

When he felt lonely in his sleeping capsule at night, he recited those names.  Like a prayer.  It was a litany, bringing comfort in the dark loneliness and peace to his weary, lumpy mind.  

Gus, Chopper, Jester, Sketch, Punch.  

They had to have been his squad.  

When his heart cried anguish at the black wound in his soul, he chanted those names in a soft murmur.

Gus, Chopper, Jester, Sketch, Punch.

They kept him going in the darkest time of training.  

Gus, Chopper, Jester, Sketch and Punch. 

His squad kept him going.

Like a squad should.

****

 


End file.
